


but overhead is a storm

by cvptains



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bullying, Christmas, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Oblivious Tony Stark, POV Tony Stark, Past Abuse, Pining, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Team as Family, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, background buckynat, like tony's really struggling here :(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvptains/pseuds/cvptains
Summary: It was just a rule. At Marvel High School, if you were gay, you didn't tell anyone. That's it.Well, Steve Rogers, as he tends to do, kind of broke that rule.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 108
Kudos: 155





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so i've been admittedly working on this for an extremely long time? and i've finally decided that now's the Time to post the first chapter :') i hope you enjoy this mess nonetheless!
> 
> warning: LOTS of internalized homophobia!!

It's the third Friday evening of his Junior year, he's at Tiberius Stone's house, and Tony's scrolling through his phone when he witnesses the first reaction to when all of it truly started.  
  
“Oh my fuck!” Hammer's yelling, and Tony gives a sidelong glance to Ty because he told him that Justin Hammer shouldn't be allowed in either of their houses for longer than fifteen minutes at a time. He's been here for an hour.  
  
Ty just shrugs.  
  
“OH MY FUCK!” Hammer's yelling louder now, and Rumlow huffs.  
  
“Hammer, do you have something you wanna say?” Brock Rumlow asks, his nose scrunched up as he squints at something on his own phone.  
  
Hammer jumps to his feet. “Oh my fuck!”  
  
“I hate broken records,” Tony says easily, but it's a thinly veiled threat to just get on with what Hammer's trying to say. Darren Cross snorts from where he's lounging on Ty's bed.  
  
Hammer glances at him, weary, then clears his throat, and is suddenly back to being very smug and happy. “Have you guys seen what Steve Rogers posted on Instagram?”  
  
Quicker than ever, Tony's off of Twitter and onto Instagram, scrolling through his following list.  
  
It’s just this: Tony Stark loves puzzles, and he loves problems, but what he loves the most are challenges. You solve puzzles and problems, but you have to _overcome_ challenges. Which is exactly what Steve Rogers is. Tony's favorite enigma.  
  
It started when Rogers was first moved to Tony's town, and was enrolled in Tony's middle school. He, of course, was blessed with new kid disease, where everyone and everything revolves around the new kid until everyone figured out they were just a real person like everyone else. But for Rogers — it was maximized. Rogers is from Brooklyn in New York City, and he now lives in Timely. No one moves _to_ Timely, despite it holding some notable state names, much less a Steve Rogers from Brooklyn.  
  
He was undoubtedly the most popular kid in the seventh grade.  
  
But that was the thing — that was where he fucked up. Him being himself, totally ruined his own life. Because the Tiberius Stones and the Tony Starks of Timely — they didn't like new, more popular kids. They liked routine, they liked uniform, they liked normal.  
  
Well, not so much Tony. But, see —  
  
Tony was born and raised in Timely, and he was a rich, popular kid who was an awesome soccer player, and was barely hanging onto his middle school status due to his lack of actually caring about certain social aspects, so he had to act accordingly.  
  
That's why, three months into his stay, Steve Rogers got poured in thick, wet, elementary school glue, by Brock Rumlow, supplied by Tony Stark's dad's wallet.  
  
The group said it was a welcome-to-Marvel-Middle prank. He'd already been there for a third of the school year.  
  
They had done it right off school grounds, just a block away from the building, where everyone who gossiped enough to spread it in five minutes would be stationed after school. And that was the unspoken new status of Steve Rogers. Was supposed to be, anyways. Until Steve Rogers wiped his eyes away with Sharon Carter's proffered scarf, then promptly punched Brock Rumlow right in the nose.  
  
Tony could only gawk as the two went at it in the embarrassing way middle schoolers do.  
  
That — _That,_ was then the new status of Steve Rogers.  
  
When questioned by nosey, ever-present Christine Everheart, Rogers said only this: “I don't like bullies.”  
  
Hence new kid was now skinny kid who fought and had an accent, and Tony was helpless to do much other than gawk at him. (It soon became A Thing, embarrassingly enough.)  
  
As the years went by, Tony couldn't do much but watch from afar. Brock Rumlow still hated him, Ty Stone always laughed at him, Darren Cross always made passes at one of Steve's female friends to get a rise out of him, and Tony Stark always watched him. It was just how it went.  
  
Except over the summer from sophomore year to junior year, Rogers had disappeared from the face of the earth, according to Ty, who always talked to Sunset Bain, who's 'close friends' with Loki Odinson, whose brother is Thor Odinson, who's a football player who doesn't hang out with football players and instead hangs out with people like Steve Rogers.  
  
Which is how Ty figured out that Steve had disappeared from the face of the earth over summer.  
  
And then when the school year started, Steve's name was spreading like a wildfire across every hallway, from seniors to freshmen, and Tony didn't listen to a single rumor until his eyes finally landed on Steve.  
  
Who was _ripped._  
  
Because — according to Ty who got it from fuck-knows-who — Steve got a growth spurt combined with military training combined with a nineties-semi-popular-movie star's protein shake diet plan combined with a super soldier serum like in a comic book combined with extensive five-minute every hour workouts and Tony didn't know what to believe until, when questioned by Christine Everheart, Rogers said only this: “Junior year is gonna be good.”  
  
It was decidedly made as the grade's slogan within the next hour.  
  
And there Steve was, back with his dorkiness and bravery and kindness and his fucking accent, walking around clumsily like he always did, this time just six inches taller and a hundred pounds of muscle heavier.  
  
But now Hammer's hopping up and down, almost indiscernible, his face pulled in a nasty expression while he has his phone and Steve's Instagram post on his screen.  
  
Tony's relieved that freshman him had the courage to follow Steve on Instagram, because his private status would've made Tony have to crawl over to Hammer's phone to see the post, which, _never._  
  
Cross, on the other hand, will ever. “I don't follow that loser. What is it?”  
  
Tony finds **@stevengrogers** , and taps on it.  
  
Hammer laughs. “Oh, you're gonna wish you followed him.”  
  
Looking at his posts, Tony realizes that it's Steve's middle school account that someone (not-so-secretly Nazi-boy Schmidt) got into, and posted a bunch of pictures of Justin Bieber. Tony frowns. It's kind of weird that he still follows it.  
  
Rumlow throws something in Hammer's direction, hitting Hammer's stomach. Hammer oofs. “Hammer, what does the fucking post say?”  
  
Tony goes back to his following list. He finds **@imsteverogers** . He taps the most recent post.  
  
Hammer straightens. “He has this picture of him — ”  
  
...wrapped in a rainbow flag, smiling wide, his eyes peculiarly flashing, and Tony realizes he's wearing eyeliner. His broad, wide shoulders are draped in the flag, his shirt says 'GAY IS NOT OKAY (it's fabulous)', and his blue eyes and beaming grin electrify Tony as he stares right into the camera.  
  
“...And the caption says, “I guess that 'admiration' finally makes sense. It's not pride time, but I'm proud to be me. #lgbt #lgbtpride”,” Hammer finishes, pretending to vomit.  
  
Tony's heart rackets out of his chest. He stares at the photo.  
  
Rumlow, Cross, and Stone all leap up, flinging themselves to Hammer's phone. Hammer's grinning.  
  
Tony slowly gets up, and edges his way over to them as well.  
  
There's the post.  
  
“What the fuck,” Ty laughs, like he always does about Steve.  
  
Cross leans in. “Is he wearing make-up?”  
  
Rumlow's grinning, grotesquely. “This keeps getting better and better.”  
  
Hammer laughs, then looks almost expectantly at Tony.  
  
Tony's — Tony doesn't know what to say. Most of the time, he can get away from this. Tony's thing is that he talks fast, he throws mixtures of insults in, and it makes people pause and try to keep up, but most of the time they can't, but when they do, one of the others are already jumping on them with brass, idiotic insults. Tony talks fast, throws money, and he watches.  
  
It's how he got to the status he's at today.  
  
But Tony can't talk fast out of this one. Now the whole group's looking at him.  
  
So he contorts his face, and twists away. He talks slower than he ever has before. “I guess the disease has finally hit Marvel High.”  
  
And that gets him laughs for hours. Rumlow almost cries.  
  
The topic doesn't die out. Much later, Tony spits out that his mom's gonna be home, even though she isn't, never is, and the other guys wave him away. They tell him to make sure that he doesn't come in contact with Steve — the disease is contagious. Tony laughs.  
  
When he gets home, Jarvis has a meal ready for him. Two bites in, he runs to the bathroom to vomit. Jarvis watches him from the doorway. Tony reassures Jarvis that it really wasn't his lasagna, but Jarvis doesn't look reassured.  
  
Laying flat on his bed, Tony looks at the post again.  
  
There's a lot of comments, but the suggested one reads:  
  
**justhammer1** evryone make sure 2 stay away from this queer, his disease might be contagious  
  
The comment has 10 likes, and 13 replies. It was only posted 15 minutes ago. Tony turns his phone off, then throws it at the wall. His mouth waters for a drink.  
  
He doesn't fall asleep.  
  
—  
  
Tony stays in the entire weekend. It's stupid, really, because every other weekend, he's always partying or drinking or smoking or something else and the weekends seem to drag on longer than anything, but this _one_ time where he stays in, it seems he falls asleep for three minutes and then it's Monday.  
  
He wants to be alone. Or... He wants to be with Steve Rogers. No, _god,_ that's stupid. And very starry-eyed, teenager-y, but —

Tony doesn't know what he wants.  
  
“Thanks, Jarvis,” he says on Monday morning when Jarvis hands him a cup of coffee.  
  
“Of course, sir,” Jarvis replies calmly. Tony slumps, sipping and scrolling through his phone. It has a thin crack in the top right corner.

Tony doesn't eat breakfast, even though he should— they have a game on Wednesday. As soon as the leaves start changing colors, he tries to eat three full meals, and to get a proper sleep schedule. His dad always wanted him to be a football player, and Tony didn't want to do any sports, but he indulges Howard's dream son fantasies every year and joins the soccer team. Tony's parents never show up to any of his games, but Jarvis always does and athletic status never hurts Tony's popularity. Tony can handle soccer — it's now just another thing that he does for his image.  
  
Jarvis is watching him, Tony knows, but Jarvis is always watching him. Tony gulps down the rest. “Thanks, J,” he repeats, setting the cup down and grabbing his phone and keys.  
  
“Sir,” Jarvis says quietly. Tony can't help but pause in his steps. He layers a small, easy smile on. Turns.  
  
“Jarvis?”  
  
Jarvis stares at him. Then grabs the plate of food behind him and takes a slice of toast off, offering it to Tony. “Take this, at least.”  
  
Tony grabs it, hastily, grins, then rushes away.  
  
The drive to school goes stupidly fast, and when Tony reaches the parking lot, Tony wants to turn and drive back home.  
  
It's stupid, how affected he is by Steve Rogers's post. Of the flag, of the eyeliner, and of his smile. Tony's been through the motions of this — when Tiffany Lakeer from fourth grade came back to school in braces, he broke up with her. When the year-older Pepper Potts started debating political opinions that dominate the state, Tony stopped talking to her. When sweet, smart eighth grader Ned Leeds who's kinda a nerd was seen talking to Tony about robotics, and Rumlow demanded a reason why, Tony started avoiding him.  
  
When Tony wants to say how much he _loathes_ his father's company, he doesn't.  
  
Tony has an image that everyone sees of him, and it's critical to keep that image pristine. He's a constant to everyone, he knows that. He's never wavered in his popularity, or his wealth, or his skills, and it's that which makes him so influential. Both him _and_ Ty. Howard Stark owns a _gun_ company in one of the most redneck states in the country, and Ty's dad owns a hunter apparel one — as long as they don't start advocating gun control laws, their families will be fine for a long time.  
  
It's almost like a set of rules. Rules that everyone was always fine with following. That _Tony_ was fine with following. _That everyone should be okay with following_. So, well —  
  
It was just a rule. At Marvel High School, if you were gay, you didn't tell anyone. That's it.  
  
Well, Steve Rogers, as he tends to do, kind of broke that rule.  
  
And it was tearing Tony apart, because sure, he knew that he and Ty and Cross and everyone else were gonna follow the rules until they got into college, at least, but seeing the reactions to the broken rules via Steve Rogers's life? Fucks with Tony's head, because damn it, he wants to punch Rumlow in the face after a stupid prank, and he wants to draw a synagogue and paste it to Nazi-boy Schmidt's locker, and he wants to fucking smile while wearing—  
  
But Tony just sits back, and watches Steve Rogers (like he always does) get pulverised with insults because he doesn't follow the goddamn rules.  
  
It makes Tony want to puke again.  
  
Instead, Tony exits his car, a careless grin playing on his lips, and walks easily toward Marvel High School.  
  
—  
  
Tony's still obsessed with watching him. In his luck, though — everyone's watching him today.  
  
Some senior stops at his table. “Hey, Rogers, you want some — ”  
  
“Fuck off.” Natasha Romanoff smiles pleasantly. The senior walks away quicker than he arrived.  
  
Tony barely restrains a laugh.  
  
“Bitch,” Rumlow mutters through a bite of his hamburger.  
  
Tony rolls his eyes. Ty laughs. “She's like Rogers's bodyguard.”  
  
“Even with all those muscles, sissies need bodyguards,” Hammer reiterates, chortling at his own joke. Cross squints at Rogers.  
  
“You think he's gonna wear that make-up again?”  
  
Tony feels something in him stiffen. He outwardly arches a single eyebrow. “Why do you wanna know?”  
  
Rumlow laughs, like Tony said a hilarious joke. “Ooh, did you get touched by Rogers? Want some dick, Cross?”  
  
That causes them to start an over-the-table brawl, that Tony swiftly moves his tray away from. Ty sends him a look.  
  
“So, Tony. You thought of our best prank against him in seventh grade,” he says, because Tiberius Stone is incapable of letting things go. “Then the one in eighth grade. Then the one in freshman year. And sophomore year. C'mon, you get where I'm going here.”  
  
Tony feels worse at the mention of it. His stomach twists.

That's an entire other thing. Every year, without fail, since Steve Rogers came to Timely, Ty and the others look to Tony for the yearly prank of Tony. Who gives them one, smiling brightly, and then watches on the sidelines as they act it out — with Rumlow usually there to take the subsequent fist to the face.

Sometimes — usually the nights following the pranks — Tony stares at the ceiling in his room, longer than usual, and wonders what Steve Rogers thinks of him. If he knows that it's Tony who publicly humiliates him — that Tony's the one who doesn't have the balls to face him while doing so. Mostly, he just wonders if Steve Rogers thinks about him at all.  
  
Rumlow shoves Cross away from him, jumping back into the conversation. “Yeah! What's it gonna be this year, Stark?”  
  
Hammer leans in eagerly. “I can pitch in any money for anything.”  
  
Rumlow sends an appreciative look his way. Hammer nearly beams.  
  
Tony shifts. “I mean — It wasn't all me, Hogan helped with freshman year — ”  
  
“The noodle year?” Ty asked. “That was all you, man. Good, too, because Rogers was such a wimp back then.”  
  
Cross snorts. “Fuck, when he stepped out of the gym in all that mac & cheese in front of everyone was the best moment in Marvel High history!”  
  
“Plus, that's what got me in that junior slut's pants,” Rumlow wriggled his eyebrows. “Freshman year was great!”  
  
Hammer's staring at Tony. “Are you really gonna let Rogers go a year without a prank when he's just told the whole school he's a queer?”  
  
Tony feels his chest cave in. Ty and Rumlow are bickering, and Cross is staring at Van Dyne's ass again, but with Hammer's beady eyes on him, he feels his revolve crumble.  
  
He avoids looking in Steve Rogers's direction.  
  
“I mean, we'll have to buy a lot of paint,” Tony interjects. The other three pairs of eyes spin to him. Tony smirks, and the others laugh, excitement buzzing.  
  
One more year.  
  
It's two more hours until English Literature and Comprehension, which is the single class that Tony has with Steve Rogers, considering their different career plans.  
  
It's usually the only class Tony wants to attend.  
  
It's the worst.  
  
“Hi, Tony!” A girl calls as soon as he walks in. She's a brunette with vaguely familiar green eyes, but Tony has no idea who she is.  
  
He winks at her, anyway. She and her friends giggle, and Tony sighs when he turns away from them. Where, of course, his eyes then land on the wall of muscle that is the current school hot topic.  
  
Steve Rogers is whispering hurriedly with Sam Wilson, who's bent in half over his chair, listening raptly. When Rogers's quick moving lips finally pause, Wilson blurts something that makes Rogers's cheeks bloom red. Tony's heart beats faster.  
  
“Stark!”  
  
Tony's eyes snap away and land on some guys from his dad's golf club in the back. He nods, stalking over.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Someone he vaguely remembers by the name of Caden (? Camden? Carson?), puts a hand out, and Tony grabs it, sliding over the desk. He drops in it, huffing, and vaguely points toward the girls. “Anyone know their names?”  
  
The other two guys chuckle, and Caden snorts, but his eyes are on someone else. He nods toward Rogers and Wilson. “You think that's the guy?”  
  
Tony arches a brow. “Rogers? Yeah, he's the — ” His mouth won't comply, and he can't— _won't_ say the slur.  
  
Caden's already talking, though. “Nah, is Wilson the guy Rogers was talking about. His 'admiration'?”  
  
Tony only barely holds in his realization.  
  
Amidst the fact that Steve Rogers was gay, he didn't really speculate over the part of Rogers's post that said he'd had an 'admiration' for some mystery person.  
  
Tony tries not to think further on it.  
  
Tony shrugs, and takes the opportunity to stare at the back of Rogers's head. “I — Well, yeah, I mean, look at them. I'm surprised Rogers isn't bent over right now.”  
  
Too far. Much too far.  
  
But Caden and the others are laughing and showing more emotion that Tony's ever seen them have, other than the smug expressions they take on after they win a big game, and he can't exactly go back in time (yet), so he just smirks.  
  
Which is when Rogers looks behind him, and his eyes land on Tony's.  
  
Tony's smirk wavers, and he can't seem to look away. Not that Rogers is. Enormous blue eyes are staring straight at Tony, and Tony watches, bemused and enamored, as they widen further. Tony straightens just a bit in his seat, and he can't seem to be able to look away, and now Rogers's cheeks are slowly turning pink, and _fuck_ , how is that the prettiest —  
  
“Hey, Rogers!” Caden shouts, and Rogers's eyes fly over to him (instead of on Tony where they should be—), along with nearly everyone else in the class. “I'm guessing your Friday was good? How'd this feel?”  
  
Caden then makes a crude gesture with his hand, which is pointed toward his mouth. Tony's fists clench, and he almost stands up, but the stifled laughter around the room stops him. He swallows, dryly.  
  
Caden laughs the most obnoxiously at his joke, and Tony tries to conjure up a smile, but then Rogers's gaze flickers to him for one moment, and Tony can't muster it up.  
  
Rogers spins in his seat, eyes determinedly forward while a good portion of class still snickers away. Tony frowns instantly, despite his attempts to not, because that's the polar opposite of how he thought I-fight-guys-one-hundred-pounds-heavier-than-me Steve Rogers would react. Wilson makes a move up, but Rogers clasps his wrist to keep him down, right when Rumlow walks into the room.  
  
Tony winces. Wrong move.  
  
“Shit!” Rumlow laughs. “Wilson just got touched by Rogers! He's been Infected!”  
  
Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more struggling on tony's part :))

Sam Wilson moved to Timely in freshman year and was immediately admitted to the Varsity basketball team since he can basically fly across the court. He had an entire school of admirers and a team that loved him. He could be friends with _anyone._   
  
But he hung out with Steve Rogers, instead.  
  
Sam was the first one to officially be ‘Infected’ — based off of the damn idiotic joke Tony had made that first night. That afternoon, Natasha Romanoff and Sharon Carter shared on both of their Snapchat stories a picture of them kissing Steve Rogers on the cheek, with the caption, 'HAPPILY INFECTED!'. Rogers was blushing, which is what the average man would do in the situation of Natasha Romanoff and Sharon Carter kissing him on the cheeks. They were the second to be deemed as Infected. (“Does that make them lesbians?” Rumlow asked. “'Cause that's fucking hot.”) The next day, Scott Lang pulled a (once again) blushing Steve Rogers onto their usual table, and shoved their joined hands up in the air. They got a mixture of applause and applesauce launched at them. During lunch, the valedictorian Bruce Banner made a show of passing Rogers a piece of paper and shaking his hand. He loudly announced that Rogers was a pleasure to work with. Rogers blushed. (Banner blushed, too, but damn, he has balls.) The most recent person to be Infected was Thor Odinson, who apparently volunteered to be Rogers's partner in AP Fine Arts, and allowed Rogers to put him in a pose to his liking for his painting. (Also, apparently — Rogers blushed.)  
  
Tony felt mystified.  
  
Their admittedly terrible basketball team was severely lacking in good players, and Sam was the star, so no one exactly called him _directly_ a disease. Romanoff is the president and leader of the linguistics club, and knows five different languages and learning, so no one gets more qualified for it than her. Sharon Carter? She's the president of the Student Council and of Leadership and founder of the Chess Club and Captain of the girls Varsity volleyball team and Captain of the Math Decathlon team and the representative of the student body in the Timely School Board and need Tony say more? Scott Lang's pretty much a dead-end socially and academically, except with engineering where he lead the school's robotics club to states then nationals. Bruce Banner's one of the smartest guys in the school, he's a hell of a wrestler, and his name in Marvel High alumni in a decade or so will make the school famous. Thor Odinson is one of the best players on the football team, not to mention his father's the senator.  
  
It's all a puzzle. And damn it, Tony loves puzzles, so he's sure as hell gonna solve this one, the only problem being that it all centers around one constant.  
  
Steve Rogers.  
  
Tony's favorite enigma, who successfully turned six of Marvel High's best and brightest into “The Infected”.  
  
Tony's group is probably the richest, and maybe some of the most well-known, but the rumors revolving around them are... _better,_ in a sense. In other terms — a bunch of bullshit. It's simply _true_ that the Infected Group are okay with homosexuality, and that they're _that_ skilled. But in reality for Tony and his friends is that Ty hasn't actually been to all of the continents. He's only been to Europe besides North America. And Rumlow hasn't been in an orgy — he had penetrative sex for the first time just three months ago. Cross doesn't have a million dollar company waiting for him — he's just interning at a really successful company because of his mom's connections. And Hammer — _god,_ e about him is a lie that he himself started. Majority thinks he has a smoking hot girlfriend in a few cities over along with the girls he manages to pick up at their school, but the girl he's talking about was more into Tony, himself, than Hammer.  
  
And Tony, well. Tony's got a lot of things about him that no one at Marvel High, much more Timely, knows about him, and he doubts that'll change any time soon. He'll keep his own traits to himself, Jarvis, and his workshop, and he'll let Marvel High have the rumors about him fly anywhere they want.

—

“Stop doing that,” Tony scolds the bot in front of him, whose arm is moving wildly. “This is why you'll remain unnamed and unmade forever, you're uncooperative.”

Tony's father, back when he still enjoyed creating things other than guns better than last year's guns, had converted the full-floor basement into a workshop, which is the only thing that Tony has happily inherited from him. It's now full of projects that Tony's had to drop at the last second for some reason or another and projects that Howard Stark would roll his eyes at. Including—

“DUM-E,” Tony calls, spinning in his chair and pointing at the pile of scraps which fell apart for the fifteenth time a few days ago. “I will put you back together again. I swear. One day, you'll function.”

“As much as I enjoy seeing your creations, sir,” Jarvis's voice speaks from behind him, “I have my doubts about that assurance. DUM-E has been brought from the storage units to the workshop several times, now.”

Tony frowns, turning toward Jarvis, who carries a plate of food. “Dinner, already? Also, I resent the implication that I can't fix our fallen comrade.”

Jarvis smiles wryly. “You've been down here for six hours.”

Tony blinks. “Wow. It's eleven?” 

Jarvis nods.

“Hm,” Tony hums. He takes the apple off of the tray, taking a large bite. “Well, then, you should be asleep.”

“You should, too,” Jarvis reprimands lightly. Tony shrugs him off. “How are you feeling, sir?”

“Never better,” Tony says immediately. He doesn't have to look at Jarvis to know what look he's giving him. He sighs. “Frustrated.”

Jarvis is quiet.

Tony's about to continue when Jarvis asks, “Because of Steve Rogers?”

Tony's head whips around to him. Jarvis is casually sorting papers on one of Tony's tables.

Tony huffs. “I never should of told you about him back in seventh grade or introduced you that one summer.”

“Oh, but you were so elated to talk all about him,” Jarvis teases dryly, dropping the pretense of being anything other than nosy. Hmph.

Tony winces at the memory, however. He still remembers how he had instantly told Jarvis everything he knew about Steve Rogers that day after school. And then the next day. And the day after that. And the next. Tony thinks he might've continued to do so until he was in freshman year and realized it was getting a tad weird.

Jarvis had always taken it with grace, adding the needed questions and noises of affirmation whenever Tony paused in his ranting. If he ever thought that Tony felt anything other than no-homo-admiration for Steve Rogers, he never said anything.

Jarvis is cool like that.

Tony slumps in his chair. “Steve Rogers is very frustrating.”

Jarvis arches an eyebrow. “In the sense of the fact that he would give kindergartners that were close to the same size of him piggybacks kind of frustrating, or _actually_ frustrating?”

Tony frowns. “How do you even remember that story?”

Jarvis arches his eyebrow higher.

“He kind of did something… Ridiculously brave and socially suicidal,” Tony admits. “And he's just very… frustrating.”

“Because he refuses to fit social expectancies,” Jarvis rephrases.

Tony sighs, nodding. Jarvis straightens.

“Why don't you stop worrying about how he fits them, and think about how _you_ fit them?” he prompts, before excusing himself and walking away.

—  
  
It's Wednesday now. It's been five days since Steve Rogers came out of the closet, and the juniors and seniors have been called to a late, beginning-of-the-year assembly.  
  
Tony's between Ty and Stephen Strange, because Ty told him that he was _not_ sitting next to the 'magician' freak since Strange is just kinda… well, strange. He's also kinda freaky smart, so Strange is another who's wasted in Timely. Nonetheless, Tony is preoccupied because right behind him is Natasha Romanoff.  
  
Who's next to Steve Rogers.  
  
Ty sends Tony a Look when they get to their seats, then nods to some empty seats next to Rumlow at the end of the 'R' row. Tony, despite himself, can't help but feel disappointed. He shrugs, standing.  
  
Then Strange puts a foot out.  
  
Tony arches an eyebrow, and Ty sighs.  
  
“Tell him we're not watching one of his magic tricks,” Ty mutters to Tony, and Tony gives him an amused look, before looking back to Strange.  
  
“Hi,” he says, very winningly.  
  
Strange ignores him. “Sit down, Stark, Stone.”  
  
Ty's eyebrows shoot up. Tony bites the inside of his cheek.  
  
“What did you just say?” Ty asks, incredulously. “No — You know what, I'm just gonna ignore it, Tony, walk over this freak — ”  
  
“Coulson is going to come down and make sure everyone's in the right places in five minutes,” Strange interrupts. “I'm keeping your asses from detention.”  
  
“Coulson?” Ty huffs. “When has he ever done that?”  
  
Strange turns sharp eyes to them both. “Since some people have started avoiding other certain people to the extent of skipping classes.”  
  
Tony tenses, highly aware of the two people just to the left of him.  
  
“Ah,” he exhales. “Well, I'm not getting detention. Are you, Ty?”  
  
Ty glances at Tony, then at Stephen. He lets out an almost laugh. “Are you kidding? I'm two away from suspension and I'm saving those for Homecoming's broom closet detentions.” He plops in the chair next to Strange, then leans over and messes up Strange's hair. Strange stiffens. “Thanks so much, _Strange_ r,” he coos, winking at Tony. Tony shoves out a laugh, before sitting in the chair Ty previously resided in.  
  
He can feel the near touch of the knees behind him.  
  
He pulls out his phone casually, attempting to calm himself, and Ty does the same, texting mindlessly to someone named Kylie. Tony pulls up his own messages, trying to act like usual, but he can't maintain his tapping foot. Ty's eyes shift to it for a second, but his attention lands back on his phone. Tony takes a deep breath in, and counts in his head until he's interrupted.  
  
“TONY! BEAR!”  
  
Both Tony and Ty look up at the mention, though Ty's is with a small grimace. Ti- _bear-_ ius. Ever since Sunset Bain started calling him 'Bear' as a nickname, no one's shook it off, not even his closest friends.   
  
That's why Hammer's yelling those names right at that moment, catching a good amount of people's attention.  
  
Tony sighs, and Ty rolls his eyes. “ _What_ , Hammer?”  
  
“KEEP YOUR HEADS IN AND DON'T LET THEM TOUCH YOU!”  
  
A few people laugh but most just roll their eyes. Natasha Romanoff, however, stands.  
  
“Hammer,” she says, evenly, yet empowering all the other voices in the area, “if you don't sit down and shut up, I might have to tell Ashley Temple that you've been saying that you're her boyfriend. I'll just have to make sure that I'm a foot away from her to avoid the vomit when I do so.”  
  
A lot of the junior side gets quiet, but there's a splatter of laughter, too. Hammer's speechless. Rogers is biting his lip to contain his smile, but he's also pulling on Romanoff's arm, urging her to sit down. When she does, it takes at least fifteen seconds till the talking starts up again, this time more like whispers than the earlier chatter. By the time Tony looks away, Hammer's sat down, still gaping.  
  
This has got to be the best day of Tony's life.  
  
“Yikes,” Ty mutters, eyes already back on his screen. Tony only hums in agreement.  
  
Seconds later, hands grip the back of their chairs, centimeters away from their heads. Ty, previously careless of Hammer's predicament, abruptly looks over to Tony, opening his mouth. Natasha Romanoff's face appears between their heads, her red hair pulled back in a fiery bun.  
  
They both jump.  
  
Rogers nudges her. “Nat, stop, don't — ”  
  
But Romanoff brushes him off. “Don't worry, boys,” she tells them, smiling. “We won't touch you. Unless you _want_ us to, of course.”  
  
Tony swallows, then looks to Ty, whose eyes are wide and his mouth slowly dropping. Tony knows the signs of Tiberius Stone speechless — along with what'll happen if Tony doesn't immediately back him up if he can.  
  
Tony has to follow the rules.  
  
He leans a bit forward, head twisted to the two. He smiles, harmlessly, but speaks loudly — speaks quick and with clear intent — he has to make everyone aware that he isn't being friendly, but he also has to make sure he doesn't get too much of a rise out of Romanoff and provoke a reaction like Hammer got.  
  
“But not worrying takes a little trust, doesn't it,” he points out, the same easy grin on his lips.  
  
Romanoff tsks. “I guess so. Definitely more than the amount that my touches will need.”  
  
Tony gives a drier smile. “Somehow I don't think your touches are gonna end up with us doing the spanky-spanky.”  
  
“Would you really want them to?” Romanoff asks. “You're not scared of getting _infected_?”  
  
Ty finds his words. “Either way, we'll get infected with something,” he shoots. It's a solid insult, but calling Natasha Romanoff a slut? Not Tiberius Stone's best move.  
  
It conjures nervous laughter from a lot of people around them, those shameless in their eavesdropping, and Romanoff's eyes flash. But she's suddenly moved back, and Rogers leans in, dangerously.  
  
“I'm sorry to disappoint, as well,” he says, voice earnest, and all 'aw, shucks', “but you won't be getting the... 'spanky-spanky' from me, either. You will get the other type of hitting, though, if you imply something like that about one of my friends again.”  
  
Romanoff's shoulders shake, and she almost looks relieved. Tony realizes (to his own contempt that he knows this much about him) that this is the first time the reckless fighter in Steve Rogers has shown up in five days.  
  
It's always so exhilarating to see it up close.  
  
Unfortunately, Tony's not a simple bystander this time. He has to think of a fucking reply.  
  
“Completely disappointed, honestly,” he deadpans. “Too bad there's no spanky-spanky.”  
  
Rogers’s eyes fly to him, almost like he forgot that he was there. Tony feels his lips (stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid—) start to turn up at the corners at the sight of the blush. He manipulates his lips into an arrogant grin. It seems to enhance Rogers's blush.  
  
Steve Rogers is such a dork when he isn't threatening to beat you to an inch of your life.  
  
Romanoff gives a smirk. “We're all upset. Aren't we, _Bear_?”  
  
Ty looks like he lost track of the conversation as soon as it started. “I...”  
  
Tony nearly face palms. Luckily, the Dean, Phil Coulson, starts his trek down the 'R' row at that moment, briskly getting to their section. Tony leans back down to his seat, but still peeks over his shoulder.  
  
“Hi, Philly,” he sing-songs. Coulson doesn't glance up from his clipboard, as he steadily makes his way to them, tapping each student's shoulder.  
  
“Risiletto, Ritten, Rockwell — Do not disturb my counting, Mr. Stark, and face forward until the assembly begins — Rockwell, Rogers — ”  
  
Rogers neatly dodges Coulson's hand. “Present, sir,” he says politely.  
  
Coulson pauses at that. He looks up from his clipboard, and arches an eyebrow.  
  
Rogers stares back at him, cheeks pink.  
  
Something in Coulson's face softens. Tony tilts his head. That's just not natural.  
  
“Rogers, it would bode well on your academia if you pay attention — I just told Mr. Stark to not interrupt my count, and you did it directly after.” Coulson taps Rogers's shoulder twice, lips twitching. “Don't do that again. Now: Rogers, Romanoff, Romero, Ronatowski — ”  
  
Ty looks over to Tony. Tony shrugs, but his heart beats ecstatically in his chest.  
  
Coulson is... Infected. 

Every student after Romanoff winces as Coulson's hand comes in contact with their shoulders. Rumlow jumps up, twisting his body away, but Coulson taps his leg still and tells him evenly that his detention will be after school today.  
  
Ty leans over. “We need to get started on that prank,” he whispers, very lowly. “Soon Rogers will have half the fucking school convinced that he's normal.”  
  
Tony almost startles. Ty always laughs, always encourages the pranks, but he never… That's the first time he's heard Ty talk like that about Rogers's sexuality — like that about _Rogers,_ period.   
  
He just nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's pretty late, but i thought i'd just publish this right now :') sorry for the waitt


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony thinks back to when he first talked to Steve Rogers outside of school, and the pot keeps getting stirred at Marvel High.

Tony was thirteen when he first met Steve Rogers outside of school. 

“You performed absolutely phenomenally, Sir,” Jarvis reassures.

Tony gnaws his lip. “Really? Because while I was showing them the plans for improvements on the fifth elements of the rifles they all seemed to get the face that Anna makes when I show her the plans for my 'bots.”

Jarvis smiles softly. “Much like Mrs. Jarvis, Sir, the engineers were simply confused.”

“Because I didn't explain it well,” Tony says glumly.

“It's because it is too advanced for them,” Jarvis corrects. Tony looks up at him. He smiles. Tony sighs in relief.

“Well, that sucks,” Tony says after a moment. “They're probably not going to use it then.”

Jarvis hums. “I believe that they'll understand. They just need a bit more time.”

Tony nods compliantly. “Most people need more time than I do.”

Jarvis nods. “Indeed. Here we are.”

Tony plops his butt down on one of the more comfy chairs in his father's office lobby. “He's gonna forget that he's supposed to take me home.”

Jarvis's smile strains a bit. “I'll make sure the receptionist is reminded of your presence.”

Tony nods. “Cool. See ya?”

“Goodbye, Sir.”

Jarvis stays there still, however, opening his mouth momentarily, before shaking his head and walking away. 

Tony stays still for approximately ten minutes after Jarvis leaves before he promptly starts buzzing. A passing man gives him the side-eye, so Tony sticks his tongue out at him. The man walks more quickly away.

An hour seems to pass. Glancing at his watch, it was only twenty minutes, but it definitely feels like an hour.

Tony's a few seconds away from just standing and wandering around, when the door to his father's office opens. 

“Thank you,” a disoriented man hurriedly says to a small, skinny woman as she closed the door behind her. “Thank you so much, Nurse Rogers.”

The woman waves him off. “Mr. Stark is tough, but he recognizes a good worker. You still have the job because you're a good worker.” Her voice has a strong accent that Tony's heard from somewhere before.

The man goes to continue gushing, but she lightly dismisses him. “Now, I know you've brought your little girl with you. Go on, John, show the lady a good time.”

He smiles brightly before rushing off, and the nurse watches him off. Tony clears his throat, and her eyes flick over to him.

“Hi,” he greets.

The nurse raises an eyebrow, but she still has a nice smile and soft eyes. “Hello. And who is your guardian?”

Tony nods his head to the door to his dad's office. “Howard Stark.”

The nurse says: 'ah'. It's not with the usual connotative meaning of some intent or emotion, it's just a simple 'ah'. She didn't know, now she knows. Tony likes her.

She hums. “And what are you doing waiting here?”

“My dad's supposed to take me home instead of Jarvis,” Tony explains. “Jarvis is our butler,” he adds briefly.

She doesn't react weirdly when he says 'butler' like most people do, but she does frown. “Honey, your dad has got two meetings after the one I was just in. He said so himself.”

As if on cue, a group of engineers Tony was just talking to a little over thirty minutes ago start heading to his dad's office. Some of them wave, friendly, at Tony, while others ignore him completely. The nurse steps over next to him.

“Why don't you come to my room and call that butler of yours?” she asks gently.

Tony purses his lips. “Dad's not going to be able to take me home, huh?”

She sighs, looking away momentarily. “No, Mr. Stark, I don't believe he will be able to. Not in time for dinner with the rest of your family, anyways.”

As she walks him down a hallway opposite to the workshops and labs, he doesn't tell her that he's an only child and that his mom is presently in Berlin.

Or that he has his own phone in his jacket pocket.

He likes to meet new people, so what?

She keeps up light conversation as they pass some other people's offices and the marketing rooms that Tony's only visited once or twice.

“So. My name is Sarah Rogers,” she introduces. “I'm a nurse from Centennial Medical, and I help oversee the health department here at SA.”

Tony hums in acknowledgement. “Hi, Sarah. I'm Tony.”

Sarah squints at him. “Hm. Okay. Hey, Tony. How old are you, again?”

“Thirteen,” Tony says easily. “What do you do when you're not… nursing people?”

Sarah eyes him. “Actually, I'm a mom to a kid your age. He's in my office, right now.”

Tony almost stops walking. He really doesn't want to deal with any kid, right now. They're exhausting. Being one is exhausting. The whole idea of hanging out with other kids is exhausting.

But Tony doesn't want to go home, where it's empty besides Jarvis and his unmade bots. 

He sighs internally before squaring his shoulders. Stark Arms isn't located in Timely, anyways, so at least it's probably not someone he knows.

“Cool,” he throws back, giving a lame smile. Sarah smiles back, a small, understanding little thing.

When they finally get to her office, she glances at him. “It's not very big, Tony, so don't start going young millionaire on me and act posh.”

Tony gives a surprised grin. “We'll just have to see if it's up to my standards.”

Sarah laughs before knocking on the door, “Steve, we've got a guest.”

Tony doesn't have time to connect the dots before Sarah opens the door.

Steve Rogers, in all of his five-foot glory, is standing behind the desk in the little office space. His eyes are wide as he stares back at Tony, one hand fingering the pages of Tolkien's _The Fellowship of the Ring_ , the other gripping a granola bar.

“Rogers,” Tony blurts. He almost facepalms at his lack of self-control.

Rogers straightens, his cheeks kinda rosy. “S-Stark. Hi.”

Sarah's talking. “Ah, you guys know each other? Huh! Small world.”

Rogers sends his mother a Look. “Extremely.”

Tony blinks. Steve Rogers — New Yorker and new, skinny, weird kid, who holds doors open and who gives a quarter to the office's charity jar every morning and who draws amazing pictures and who fights bullies twice his size and who has a really nice laugh — is standing right in front of him.

And his mom works for Tony's dad. Whoa. Nurse Rogers's accent makes more sense now. 

“I…” Tony collects himself. “Yeah, small world. Hi, Rogers. How's your summer going?”

Sarah's smiling when Tony glances at her. Steve looks on, warily, at him.

“I— Well,” Rogers clears his throat, “good? Yeah, it's going good. I'm — We're visiting Brooklyn next month, so. Good.”

Tony nods jerkily. “Cool. Awesome.”

It's awkwardly quiet for a moment. Tony swings his head to Sarah, gesturing to the phone on the corner of the desk. “Could I — The phone?”

Sarah snaps, as if she completely forgot. “Oh! Yes, of course! It's right there.”

Tony nods, again, walking over, and, in the blink of an eye, Steve flings himself across the room. “Mom and I will give you some privacy,” he says before herding his mother out. They're both short and skinny but, next to his mother, Steve finally seems to be a normal height.

Tony exhales when the door closes behind them. Steve Rogers. God.

He hurriedly dials Jarvis's number and explains the situation. Jarvis has the beginning notes of being upset when he first says that dad isn't leaving, but when Tony launches into whispering about the Rogers, Jarvis listens in, quiet. He sighs over the line.

“Would you like me to stall, Sir?” Jarvis asks patiently. “Before arriving?”

Tony grins. “You're the best, J.”

After hanging up, Tony inhales. This is Steve Rogers. This is Steve Rogers' mother. Now, more than ever — he wants to seem likeable.

He straightens, slides a hand through his hair, and opens the door again.

Steve and his mother are furtively talking when they come into view. They immediately shut up upon seeing Tony, both throwing nearly identical smiles on their faces. Tony huffs, but he grins a little.

“Hope you weren't talking about me,” he teases. Steve turns bright red and Sarah gives a bright laugh, reaching out to lightly punch Tony's shoulder.

“'Course we are,” Sarah says. “Specifically about your terrible jokes. Your ride coming?”

Tony scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, but he was headed to do some errands or something? So it'll take awhile.”

Sarah's lips form an 'o', but she smiles reassuringly after. “That's fine, Tony. Stevie and I will be here for — ” Her pocket vibrates. She takes out one of the StarkComms that Tony helped develop. “Nurse Rogers. Yeah. Mmhmm. Okay. I'll be there in a second.”

She shoves the communicator in her pocket and mainly looks at Steve as she says, apologetically, “I'm so sorry, boys, but some of the technicians need a little clarity on the rules here. I probably won't be back before Tony's gone. I'm sure you know how to reach me, Tony, though, through the communicators. There's one at every hallway corner.”

Tony nods, sharply, but he feels himself flare with panic. Alone? Alone with Steve Rogers? With no one to buffer in-between? This is definitely a risk. He's never even dared to… 

“Bye, Mom,” Steve says weakly.

Tony nods again. “Bye, Ms. Rogers. Thanks for the phone.”

Sarah smiles softly at him. “It was nice to meet you, Tony. Goodbye.”

Tony feels his heart speed up as she walks away. He spares a glance at Steve, who's looking longingly at his mother's retreating back. 

Tony clears his throat. “Uh.”

Steve's eyes fling back over to Tony. Tony watches him as his arms flail a bit then they fall back sloppily. Steve screws his face up then inhales slowly, visibly collecting himself.

Tony blinks. “Uh.”

Steve straightens. “Yeah.”

It's silent.

Steve flushes. “Sorry, that made no sense at all, did it?”

A heat consumes Tony's neck and he gives Steve a quiet and hesitant laugh. “Gotta admit, it kinda didn't.”

Steve averts his gaze. “Thought so. Ugh. Sorry.”

“What exactly are you apologizing for?” Tony teases, trying to portray being calm because holyshithe'smaintainingaconversationwithsteverogers.

Steve flushes brighter. “Okay, okay, I get it, I'm ridiculous.”

“Nah.” Tony shakes his head. “You're funny.”

Steve blinks owlishly at him.

Tony looks away. “So. How has break been going? For you. Yeah.”

Steve purses his lips, and Tony notes with embarrassment that his blue eyes are shining with amusement. “Uh. You already asked that.”

Tony hmphs. “Answer again, then.”

Steve laughs, quiet but genuine. “Okay, uh… Just yesterday I realized that even if I eat a whole pizza, I still won't gain a pound. Just a stomach-ache.”

An abrupt laugh flies out of Tony's mouth before he can stop it. He flushes but soldiers on. “An _entire_ pizza?”

“Yeah, bought it with my money and ate all of it during a movie marathon,” Steve sighs. “My tongue is numb to the taste of pepperoni now.”

“Which movie marathon?”

“You'll make fun of me.”

Tony wishes he could tell him that he probably most definitely won't, but that doesn't fit in the whole 'Tony Stark thing' he's got going. “I promise I won't laugh too hard.”

Steve flushes a little. “Fine. Star Trek.”

Tony squints. “Dig deeper.”

Steve flushes harder. “Next Gen."

Tony barely quells an excited grin, remembering himself, and just laughs. “Don't worry; as long as you weren't watching _Generations_ on repeat?”

“Never,” Steve declares, grinning goofily. “Anyways, my pizza interrupted _Nemesis_.”

“Soccer practice is already in runs, so I unfortunately cannot indulge like you. Maybe I'll try half,” Tony jokes. Steve snorts between a laugh in a way that makes Tony's heart hurt. “But either way I'd probably gain like. Fifteen pounds.”

Steve shrugs. “It'd be nice to get muscle mass though. I look like a twig.”

“Hey,” Tony warns half-heartedly. “Don't you remember the Positive Action crash courses from last year?”

Steve groans, laughing. “Actually, I tried hard to forget them.”

“'Every person is a type of person that matters',” Tony parrots. “Don't tell me you've gone to the dark, self-deprecation side.”

Steve gives a mock-fake gasp. “I would never.”

Tony smiles brightly in return and Steve's cheeks fluster in a…not unattractive way. Tony clears his throat, looking away to sit against the wall of Sarah's office.

Steve mimics his movements and slides to his butt against the wall across from Tony. He tilts his head. “How's your summer been?”

_Terrible_ , Tony wants to indulge. _Terrible_. Just last week, he was stuck at a pool party at Darren Cross's house where he was kissed _six times_ by _five different_ girls because of that stupid game, Spin the Bottle. The meeting with the engineers definitely could've gone better and Tony still hasn't been able to correct the code behind his first attempt at an AI. His parents promised a trip to California to visit Uncle Obie and the beach, but they still haven't visited, and with his mom in Germany and his dad working as much as he has been, Tony doesn't see the trip happening anytime soon.

But Rogers can't… No, Rogers _doesn't want_ to know all of that. So Tony just shrugs.

“Nothing really. Went to a pool party last week, got to talk to some of the engineers here,” Tony says offhandedly.

Rogers' eyes widen. “That must've been cool! Don't you want to be an engineer?”

Tony's brow furrows. “Uh… Yes? But how did you know that?”

Steve turns a startling shade of crimson red, from the roots of his hair all the way to where his neck meets the collar of his shirt. Tony watches him curiously.

“I probably sound like a terrible stalker,” Steve stammers out, “but I just. I remembered from when you did that presentation? Yeah, in the Business Computer Applications course.”

Tony's eyebrows skyrocket. “Oh, yeah. Great memory.” Steve sinks into the wall further. “Don't you want to be a… Like a digital artist?”

Steve looks relieved to move on to a slightly new subject. “Kind of. I really want to pursue painting or commissioned traditional styles of art but… That won't exactly pay the bills when I get older,” he finishes wryly, a twisted smile on his lips.

Tony, foolishly and uncontrollably, imagines a foggy future where he and Steve are together, _living together_ , somewhere else like in California or even Brooklyn, and Tony gets to work on his AI tech, away from his dad's name and still successful, and that's enough to pay the bills so that Steve is able to do whatever he wants but is still able to be happy and Tony just knows that he would be happy too and—

Steve is frowning at him, concerned. “You okay, Tony?”

And gee, that didn't help because that's the first time Tony's ever heard Steve Rogers say his first name and wow.

Tony shakes his head. “Sorry, zoned out. But… I mean, if you're really good, which I'm sure you are, I bet you could make your way without doing something else.” 

And then a ridiculously intriguing thing happens. The skin next to Steve's blue eyes becomes really soft, and his eyebrows turn down a little, and his whole posture melts, and the corner of his lips tilt up, up, _up_ , until they seem to be picture perfect, and Tony—

Tony has never wanted to remember something as much as he wants to remember that mesmerizing look on Steve's face at that moment.

Steve gnaws his bottom lip. “Thanks, Tony. Really. But I wouldn't say I'm that great of an artist.”

Tony aches to keep the look on the other boy's face. “Aw, come on. I highly doubt that the only thing your fists can do is punch people out.”

Steve's cheeks flush but he laughs loudly. 

Tony grins, pleased. “Come on. Do you only draw dragons? Don't you have a sketchbook on you or something?”

Steve sighs, but there's still a smile on his lips. “Fine, give me a second.”

Tony patiently waits till Steve comes back out and silently freaks out that he's been interacting with Steve Rogers for a good half hour.

Surreal.

Steve comes back, a barely held together black book clutched in his hands. His eyebrows pinch together as he flips through the pages, finally landing on one that he deems to be okay enough to show Tony.

Tony carefully takes the sketchbook from Steve's hands, treating it as something invaluable because he really does think it is (The following year, Tony will have Brock Rumlow hang half of Steve's drawings in the cafeteria and then invite everyone to fling food at them).

In his hands is a sketch of a city, presumably New York City, with mute colors shaded in by a skilled hand. The city in the worn book seems to be alive in a way that Tony's never seen in a color-pencil drawing before. The sky is a deafening dark color, seemingly blue and purple, with skyscrapers towering over a road of flying cars, which makes everything seem like it's moving, and Tony feels like that's how Steve must have thought what his city felt like. Tony feels a smile spread over his cheeks.

“This is…” he looks up at Rogers, whose worrying his bottom lip, “ _amazing_ , Steve. This is just… awesome.”

That blindingly bright beam overwhelms Steve's features. Tony feels his heart ache again.

“How the hell do you make a sketch look — ”

“Sir,” a polite voice speaks from behind Tony. 

Tony flings his head around, and tries to quell down his disappointment when he sees Jarvis. 

“Oh, hey, J,” Tony replies, standing. He carefully fingers the pages of the sketchbook before looking at Steve. “There any chance I could see more?”

Inexplicably, another flush spreads over Steve's face. “Uh… Maybe next time. A lot of them are just.. uninteresting so…”

“I'm sure they aren't,” Tony argues, but hands the sketchbook back anyways, “and also, I was totally right. You could definitely make a living off of drawings like that.”

Steve gives him that same look and Tony beams back.

Jarvis clears his throat.

Tony flushes, looking back at his butler. “Sorry, J. Uh. Steve, this is my butler, Jarvis. Jarvis, this is Steve Rogers, someone I know from school.”

Jarvis doesn't react at the name that Tony knows he's heard a million times from Tony himself, and nods respectfully to Steve. “Hello, Mr. Rogers. I hope it was not too much of a bother for you to look after Master Stark in my absence?”

“Aw, come on, J, he wasn't baby-sitting me!” Tony refutes, flustered.

Steve just gives a sheepish, quiet laugh. “Not at all, Mr. Jarvis. He was a gentleman.”

Tony grins, smugly, and Jarvis also smiles, warmly. “I am pleased to hear that. Shall we take our leave, Master Stark?”

Tony looks back at Steve. “Do you want us to stay until your mom comes back?”

Steve waves him off. “I'll be fine, no worries. It was nice talking to you, Tony.”

Tony smiles back. “You, too, Steve. Bye.”

Steve waves at him, smiling in a way that makes Tony's stomach flutter, and it takes a lot for Tony to follow Jarvis out of the building.

In the car, Jarvis hums. “So that was the infamous Steve Rogers, was it?”

Tony shoves his face in his hands. “I'm doomed, J.”

—

“Sir?”

Tony doesn't look up from his phone. “Hmm?”

“Are you going to eat, sir?”

Tony hums. “Yeah, yeah...”

On the screen, the school blog — MarvelUs.com — is filling up with comments underneath the post an anonymous user made.

It's a video of Steve Rogers, of course, because nothing gets talked about more than Steve Rogers at Marvel High nowadays, and he's boxing, his fists moving incredibly fast in front of him. He's ridiculously sweaty and his white t-shirt is clinging to his pale skin, but he's got perfect form and he's confident in his punches.

It's, in a way, stupid how beautiful he is.

The caption simply says, ‘Didn't know queers had it in them', with no username, and the read receipt says it was posted three hours ago. No one except people who share their 'fanart' actually go on MarvelUs, so considering that there's now literally over a hundred comments of people debating, Tony takes another moment to realize just how much this has affected Marvel High.

And how much it would if someone else, equally well-known, came out, too.

Tony swallows around something, tapping on the comment section. 

**Sunset Bain** omg who posted this dm me on ig @sunnybain

reply _2 hours ago_

**Christine Everheart** Steve Rogers, if you're reading this, reply with how you feel about someone anonymously sharing this!

reply _2 hours ago_

**Kayley White** Why are all the hot ones gay ugh

reply _2 hours ago_

↓ Thread

**Gamora Titan** Who else do you know that's gay??

_55 minutes ago_

Tony winces when he sees a new comment, but when he sees a reply pop up soon after it, he tilts his head, curiously.

**Brock Rumlow** He even punches like a pussy😝😝

reply _2_ _minutes ago_

↓ Thread

**Scott Lang** *attached file*

_1 minute ago_

Tony blinks, before tapping on it. His eyes bulge at the content of it.

“ _Uh_!” Rumlow huffs, slapping a shiny, new punching bag. Slapping it. Not _punching. Slapping_ it. “Uh! Uh! Uh!”

The camera's slightly blurred in the corner, obviously trying to be hidden from view, but Rumlow's broad figure is distinct, and his face every once in a while turns to the camera, smiling wide like he's doing amazing. The camera shakes a bit, like the person recording is laughing, and it turns momentarily to the side, zooming in on an instructor, whose shoulders are also shaking. The video ends on Rumlow again, right when he tries to kick the bag, but ends up overestimating his strength, because his other leg fails him, sending him to the ground. The camera falls over, then the footage turns off.

Tony let's out an outward laugh. Jarvis makes a noise from his seat, always so displeased at Tony's use of his phone during meals, but he has a curious look in his eyes.

Tony makes sure his phone is screen recording before he eagerly shows Jarvis the video as well.

Jarvis immediately looks disapproving, but at the end, his lips quirk in a guilty, humored smile. Tony laughs outright again. 

“What the hell, Jarvis,” he asks, tone serious but his lips are twitching. “What the hell was he doing? Give me the answers.”

Jarvis huffs. “I can barely tell you, sir, but I presume he was attempting to be boxing.”

Tony laughs, playing the video again. “Emphasis on _attempt_. Fuck, Rumlow's so screwed.”

Jarvis eyes him. “I've never heard someone so eager to hear a friend be humiliated.”

Tony can't find a response to that, so he simply says, “Humiliated is kinda lacking, isn't it?”

Jarvis arches an eyebrow at that before turning back to his meal, and Tony looks back down at his phone. He goes back to the comment section, and there's already a multitude of comments, but none of Rogers's group says anything besides one more from Lang:

**Scott Lang** Ur wellcum sluts

reply _2 minutes ago_

Tony screenshots it because if that's not art, then Mona Lisa can choke him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that i haven't been updating this!! new chapter out soon <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are calming down, but life for Steve and Tony still isn't getting any easier.

Nearly a month and a half has passed since Steve Rogers came out as gay via Instagram, and things have relatively calmed down, considering a good amount of the school has somehow gotten touched by one of the Infected. Still, Rogers is largely avoided, or purposefully ignored.

Especially by the people surrounding Tony's table.

“I want to barrel in all of their faces,” Rumlow growls, hands clenched around his lunch fork. “Especially those bitches.”

Tony's jaw tenses, momentarily. He calms. “Careful, Rumlow, isn't your mom coming home for her holiday?”

Rumlow's nostrils flair just a bit, but he gives it a laugh when the other three do. His mom hitched an acting job as some witch on a kids’ show in the late nineties, and ever since Ty found out, the Brock Halloween Joke is used every day this time of year. Considering his mother doesn't even come home during Christmas, Tony knows it hits hard every time. Like his group tends to have, it's one of those funny-to-everyone-except-for-who-it's-about jokes. Ty's personal favorites, he told Tony once.

Hammer's making this weird expression, making his unattractive face look worse. “But, true. That Romanoff whore needs to learn a lesson or two.”

Ty laughs. “And you're gonna give it to her? As much as I agree with you, don't fucking touch her, okay? She's Infected.”

“Are people even still saying that?” Tony asks casually.

Cross snorts. “It always seemed too middle school to me, anyways.”

“It’s just that,” Hammer presses, “everyone’s infected, nowadays.”

“Why do you wanna touch them so much?” Rumlow challenges. Hammer tries to defend himself, but Ty's already talking over him.

“Yeah, that's exactly what people would wonder. We fucking started the disease! So we cannot touch them,” Ty emphasizes. “Right, Brock?”

Rumlow grunts. Ever since that video was leaked, Rumlow's had his eyes on Lang, wanting to knock the living daylights out of him, but whenever he's urged to, Lang drapes himself over Rogers. It's hilariously embarrassing for Rumlow, and Tony seriously wants to give Lang a high-five for all he's done to ridicule Brock Rumlow.

But. Y'know. _Rules_.

“When are we gonna do that prank, Tony?” Cross asks curiously, and Tony feels anxiety rise in his stomach.

Outside, he just shrugs. “I was thinking before one of the breaks, so we can get the best out of our hard work.”

“Hell, yeah,” Rumlow agrees vehemently. The other three brighten at the idea.

The conversation finally turns from Rogers to Rumlow's latest sexual conquests, and Tony marginally relaxes.

Honestly, nothing has gotten better for Tony's part of the Steve Rogers Situation. Including Tony's confusion on how Rogers manages to recruit people into the Gay Is Okay Group. The weird, emo, sophomore twins, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, had invited him and the rest of his friends to their birthday party. They'd posted a picture where they smushed Rogers in between them, an obvious statement. Pietro's beat two mile records for his age group. Wanda's the head of a hell of a lot of clubs that Tony can't even bother to name, and they're just new pieces to the Rogers puzzle. And the guidance counselor, Maria Hill, shook Rogers's hand on school grounds. Teachers are now breaking the rules for Rogers, and it's bothering the fuck out of Tony. 

It's just a puzzle. But it's one that Tony can't seem to solve.

He doesn't realize how zoned out he is until he sees Rumlow glaring at something over Cross's head. Tony blinks, then focuses on where Rumlow's looking.

Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter are walking and chatting amorously, gradually reaching their table. Carter's a senior, and a busy one at that, so she's rarely visiting the Juniors' lunch. They get stopped by Thor, and start talking just a few feet away. Rumlow is literally growling.

Tony arches an eyebrow. Saying: “Problem?” because he's a dick like that.

“Big one,” Rumlow nods to them. “We should do something right now. Get at them.”

Hammer leans in. “I'm all for it, man.”

Tony swallows back some panic. Rumlow grins, eyeing the two, who are waving Thor goodbye. “Well, why don't we — ”

Cross, instinctively, stands up. “Hey, Legs!”

Rogers and Carter look over. Rogers's jaw clenches, but Carter simply raises an eyebrow.

Hammer snickers, and Ty sighs. Cross winks at Carter. “Yeah, sweet cheeks, I'm talking to you.”

Carter blinks, looks over to Rogers, then grins. She pulls Rogers toward their table. Tony nearly groans, and Cross's eyes widen. Ty sighs even louder.

Sharon Carter's the type of person someone thinks of for 'Most Likely To Become President'. She's a woman that demands attention by walking in a room silently, one that's charming and flirtatious but you can never get in your bed. She's kind of a god around Marvel High, and no one, _no one_ , dares to fucking cat-call her. Except, obviously, the idiot named Darren Cross.

Tony straightens as the two approach, eyes flickering to a cowering Cross every once in awhile. He looks scared shitless. Good.

It's kind of unspoken knowledge in the group that they don't really, at the end of the day, have each other's backs. Admittedly, Tony and Ty have gotten each other out of tight situations, but they've known each other since diapers. Even then, though, they've watched each other be torn down and provided no help, like a reminder that everyone's by themselves — a reminder that they’ve only stayed together for so long because of their fathers. With the others, though — Tony always arches an eyebrow, and Ty always laughs or sighs. It's not that they _always_ don't have each other's backs, but sometimes Tony knows it's better to let this one play out, instead of intervening.

Plus, it's much more amusing.

Rumlow stiffens. “Good job, Cross, you dumb fuck.” he mutters, because, for all his talk about 'bitches’, even Rumlow knows you don't fuck with _Sharon Carter_.

Who's a foot away from Tony's knee right now, with a confused Steve Rogers right behind her. She has a secretive smile on her face, stretching her pink lips, and Tony feels like an ant.

Cross, however, does not know when to stop.

“Hey, babe, need a pick-me-up?” He tilts his head back, a challenging little smirk on his lips. (Ty sends Tony a look that makes the sighing noise for him.)

Carter smiles wider, than looks over to Rogers. “Well, Steve? Answer!”

It seems as if merely Carter's voice silences the cafeteria. More than half of the students’ eyes are trained on the table, and Tony resists the urge to face palm.

Cross's eyes widen.

Rogers's eyebrows raise just a bit at Carter, but glancing at Cross makes him reevaluate. He smirks, just this side of downright dirty.

Tony, as he does with Steve Rogers, gawks. But just a bit.

Steve gives Cross a very exaggerated, deliberate once-over. “I think I need someone with a little more… muscle, to pick-me-up.”

Carter gives him a knowing look. “More masculine?”

Rogers snaps. “That’s the word!”

Cross looks green. Tony has to bite the inside of his cheek hard to prevent himself from laughing. 

Ty, pushed further into Cross to distance himself from Rogers and Carter, tsks. Tony almost winces — Ty was never one to lend a hand to a situation. 

“Well, Cross, too bad,” he says, tone even. “Guess you're just not up to Rogers's, uh… manly standards.”

Tony sends him a look. Ty winks.

Carter and Rogers glance at each other, then Rogers has a ghost of a smile on his face. “Well, Stone, don't be so full of yourself. You're not fitting them either.”

Ty chokes on air. Tony bites his lip, eyes twinkling as he looks to Rogers, whose eyebrow is arched high. Rogers’ eyes catch his, and Tony's lips quirk up, just on one side. Rogers turns red.

Tony, momentarily enamoured, shifts, mouth nearly opening, but, fortunately yet unfortunately, Hammer finally decides to open his mouth, considering that he's, first and foremost, Ty's bitch.

“Like we don't know why you're ‘gay’ all of a sudden,” Hammer sneers. “It’s because you couldn't fit any girl's standards. Honestly, you shouldn't even have any standards because then you'll get no one. Not even another ass-fucker.”

Carter's jaw clenches, her eyes steeling over, dangerously, and Tony feels the tension racket. Rogers clasps a hand over Carter's wrist, restraining her, and opens his mouth, but the bell rings. 

Hammer's grinning, smugly.

Rogers mutters something to Carter, and they walk away without another word. Tony can see Carter rubbing the back of Rogers’ hand, eyes reassuring.

Ty's smiling at Hammer, and Cross and Rumlow are praising him.

Tony frowns. _That won't do._

—

“Did you see it?” Ty hisses at Tony, as soon as Tony arrives at school the next day.

Tony slides his sunglasses off. “Hm?”

“Hammer!” Ty presses. “And his — the post, y'know!”

Tony blinks. “What the hell are you talking about, Ty?”

Ty scoffs, stopping in the middle of the school hallway. He pulls out his phone, tapping his password in quickly, and shows Tony a post from MarvelUs.com.

Of Hammer licking into a fleshlight, staring straight at the camera.

The caption says: ‘My girl and me’. Tony hmphs.

“Interesting,” he says. And he shouldn't laugh — seriously. But he really wants to.

Ty stares at him. “‘Interesting?’ No, Tones, it isn't, this can ruin our reputation!”

Tony idly walks by him, straight toward his locker. “I always told you Hammer would.”

Ty huffs, trailing after him. “Why are you so okay with this?”

Tony stiffens. Relaxes. “I’m not. But that's what people will expect. So calm down. What do you wanna do about Hammer?”

Ty sighs, but he makes himself calm anyway. “I dunno. He's a good guy, but this is fucked up. He's got people trying to take it down, but everyone knows the mods for the stupid school blog never actually go on there, and ever since Rumlow's ‘'fighting’ video, people are always looking on there. Half the school must've already seen it.”

Tony starts walking, Ty following. “Then we drop him. Just for a little while. Until he proves that he should be able to join the group again.”

Ty tsks. “I was thinking about offering little Odinson in. Then we can get Thor, and easy access to Rogers for the prank.”

_Thor won't join_ , Tony doesn't say. He shrugs. “Do what you need. Tell Hammer to tell his girlfriend that I said hi.”

Ty laughs, patting Tony on the back before disappearing into the crowds. Tony finally let's his smirk slip off his face, turning and nearly bumping into someone before they jump away at the last second.

“Sorry,” the person blurts, and Tony looks up, surprised, because that was completely his fault and high school students aren't exactly known for impeccable manners. 

Surprised until he sees it's Steve Rogers.

Tony unconsciously straightens, and he swallows dryly. “I — You. No problem — It's… fine.”

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit —_

Rogers nods, his blue, blue eyes wide and his lips peeking into a grin. “I — Yeah, I — Thanks? Uh.”

Tony blinks at him. Rogers blinks back, cheeks turning pink.

Oh, Tony thinks dumbly. Rogers is expecting me to call him something now.

That single thought makes Tony stiffen, and he flippantly slides his sunglasses on, then nods and walks away from Rogers, impassively. 

It doesn't matter that Tony hacked into Hammer's phone and MarvelUs.com to post that humiliating video.

He's Tony Stark, and he's Steve Rogers, and even when Tony's looking straight into Rogers's eyes, they are on completely different sides of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i should be able to post once a week from now on! and the next chapter, by far, is my favorite.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a Halloween party, Steve and Tony's lives collide once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// some light dub-con touching, mentioned briefly but definitely still enough to warrant a warning. there's also underage drinking. feel free to comment if you think i should add an overview in the endnotes because it was too much, please!!! i really don't wanna hurt anyone :(

It's the day before Halloween, and Hammer's calling Rumlow's phone.

“It’s so fucking annoying,” Rumlow scoffs, declining the call. “We told him what he needs to do. He just has to go fucking do it.”

Ty rolls his eyes. “Give him some more time.”

Tony listens as the guys bicker on as he adjusts his shendyt. Ty's a fucking moron who makes sure that they have matching costumes for M'Baku Jabari's, the city kid who’s more popular than God, annual Halloween party. Last year was the first year they were accepted in, and it was a feat in itself considering that they were sophomores and M'Baku was a junior who looked like he was twenty and sounded like he was thirty and had way more experience than you in every single way. Plus, T'Challa Udaku is M'Baku's best friend. T'Chaka Udaku used to dine with the president until the election in 2016. 

It's a big deal. Especially for a city near Timely.

Tony sighs. He adjusts his arm wraps. “Are we leaving yet, Ty?”

Tiberius stands, wiggling his eyebrows. “What’s the hurry, Tones? Want some ass?”

Tony briefly raises an eyebrow. “Maybe. The only ass I've gotten tonight though is Cross's. Pull down your skirt, moron.”

Rumlow is wheezing as he watches Cross make a show of slowly lowering his shendyt down to cover his ass. 

In the car, Cross and Rumlow are chattering loudly, and Ty's hardly paying attention to the road since he keeps looking at his phone. Tony barely registers any of it happening around him. By the time they arrive at M'Baku’s house, the party is already in full swing. 

“HAPPY FUCKING HALLOWEEN!” Rumlow shouts as soon as he enters the house. Nobody even glances his way even as they respond uproariously. Ty laughs.

“See you guys later,” he shouts. “I’m not missing out on the chicks here! Find a ride home on your own!”

Ty disappears into the crowds, and Tony rolls his eyes, walking away from Rumlow and Cross.

He needs a drink.

At some point on his trek to the kitchen, a girl in a pineapple 'costume' — which consisted of a green bikini top and a yellow bikini bottom — apparently appreciated all the bare skin his costume presented, because she plastered herself to him and still hasn't let go.

In Tony's subtle attempts to detach her, she had navigated him near the center of the room, where Tony lost track of her but was soon surrounded by a group of more people gyrating their hips against him. He could almost swear some guy's dick was nudging his ass. He does get a beer somehow pressed into his hand, so he just chugs it down and let people continue doing their thing. It's whatever.

“Nice costume!” a blonde with vampire teeth tells him. “Ancient Egypt is kinda my thing!”

Tony arches a brow. She's not from Timely, definitely, so that means she's most likely from a surrounding city. Tony's crossing his fingers for the one he's currently in — that'd be best for the rumors surrounding him.

He throws a careless grin her way, chugging his second(? third?) beer. “Cute girls that suck things from me are kinda my thing, so the whole vampire costume is good on you!”

The blonde laughs. “Cute?”

“Sexy, too,” Tony winks. She giggles.

“I’m Heather Matthews,” she tells him.

“Tony. Stark.”

Not five minutes later, she's pulling him to the side of the room, her hands edging to his pants. Tony's near drunk.

“Tony,” she breathes sultrily down his neck. Tony shivers. He's not all sure that it's one of pleasure. 

Tony's not really sure of anything lately.

Heather groans, pushing him to the wall. As she descends on his neck, Tony's eyes fall to the ceiling. She's giggling into his skin as her tongue moves patternless over it, and Tony tilts his gaze to the side as she starts nibbling his ear. People, the less adventurous, linger on the outskirts of the party, speaking lowly to each other. T'Challa's there, now, talking to someone. Talking to —

Tony's eyes widen. He straightens, coming off the wall, making the blonde (Hayley? Hilly?) giggle and capture his lips in a kiss. Momentarily distracted, Tony kisses back, but her lips eventually sneak back down, now to his sternum, and Tony's eyes wrench away, falling to T'Challa's retreating back, and to —

Steve Rogers. Who's staring at him. With really red cheeks. And a tight army uniform on.

What the fuck?

Tony must make some sort of noise because the blonde laughs. “You like that, hm, Tony?” she purrs.

Tony doesn't respond. He's minutely aware that she's still talking to him, but he really can't find it in himself to care.

Because Steve Rogers. Because Steve Rogers is standing there, in a stupidly tight, army camo button down and army green pants, with a sealed water bottle in one hand and is clasping the wall in the other. Because Steve Rogers's body language is screaming uncomfortable. Because Steve Rogers is staring at Tony Stark.

And he has really red cheeks.

Tony's mind scrambles for coherent thoughts. How the hell did Steve get let in — No, screw that, how is Steve friends with T'Challa Udaku? He even got greeted which is like — A fucking _honor_ , what the hell—

“TONY!” 

Rumlow's face is now obscuring Tony's view to Rogers. “TY WANTS YOU TO COME OVER TO DO BEER PONG WITH HIM!”

The blonde apparently realized Tony was no longer paying attention to her, because when Tony looks down, she's gone. Tony blinks at Rumlow, then pushes him to the side, but Rogers is gone.

Rumlow looks at him, expectantly. Tony sighs. He feels way too sober now. “Sure, yeah, let's go.”

Despite having toured the entire bottom level of Udaku's house because Ty seems to want Tony to be wherever he is for the rest of the night, Tony doesn't see Rogers. Even after actively searching for him. 

Rogers is either purposefully avoiding Tony and Tony's group (which is understandable, considering, well — everything) or he's on the second level of the house. 

Which is the… not socializing level.

Thoughts of Rogers doing that with someone echoes in the back of Tony's mind for the majority of the night, even when he's a bit delirious off of alcohol. It's kinda stupid and at the same time sad and pathetic.

“I’ve got Hannah here,” Ty tells Tony, when one of the clocks on the walls say it's two o'clock in the morning. He's motioning to the blonde next to him. “And we're gonna go fuck, so! Bye!”

“It’s Heather,” the girl whines into his ear as they disappear upstairs. Tony blinks at their backs.

Someone half-naked roughly pushes past him, and Tony's shoved into the wall. Staying there, he leans his head against the surface, eyes falling shut. He's okay. He's okay. He's —

Not okay. He needs to get out of here.

Eyes surging open, Tony pushes past people with a similar lack of care. He vaguely remembers that the front door is in the direction he's heading, but in all honesty, he's just kind of stumbling until he reaches a doorknob.

When he's finally in the fresh air, and the pulsing music of the party is left behind him, Tony throws up in M'Baku's shrubbery.

He's rich, though. It's not a problem.

Actual problem — Tony doesn't have a way to get home. Correction — he does, he's just gotta call Jarvis, but before he does that he needs to get a little more sober to prevent Jarvis from totally freaking out.

So. Tony slaps himself twice in the face, then starts walking randomly.

M'Baku lives in a rich neighborhood like most people Tony hangs out with — not that Tony's ever talked to M'Baku regularly, but the majority of Tony's acquaintances aren't exactly straining to make ends meet. With that in mind, there's a few things to know about these types of neighborhood — one being that, as long as you either have soundproof walls or that you don't cross that volume level of 75, trespass, or vandalize their homes, these people don't give a fuck about what you're doing on your own time. So sixteen-year-old Tony Stark, even being known state-wide, stumbling down the sidewalks in front of their houses that are yards upon yards away considering their fountains and driveways, obviously drunk, shouldn't prompt any attention.

Except this time it does.

“Hey, are you o — _Stark_?”

Tony attempts a graceful spin of his heels, but he kind of just wobbles, and doesn't even end up turning. Whatever. Tony dutifully turns around, smiling wide.

Steve Rogers, in his army uniform costume, blushes a bright red.

“Rogers,” Tony exhales. He gives another wide grin. “Hi.”

Rogers's eyebrows furrow before he looks away, clearly uncomfortable and unsure in the situation. “You’re really drunk.”

“You’re really red,” Tony tells him back. Rogers turns even redder. “Now you're more red.”

Rogers clears his throat. “I uh — well, _yes_ , I'm red, thanks for pointing that out — ”

“No problem!” Tony says, cheerfully. “Anytime!”

Rogers stares mutely at him. His lips are twitching, though. His lips are very pink. And plump. That's weird. Tony should stop thinking like that. He doesn't really want to.

“Anyway,” Rogers finally says. He's still biting his bottom lip (pink, plump, weird) to hide his smile. “Are you okay? You shouldn't be out here this late, walking. Do you have a ride?”

Tony blinks at him because that was a lot of talking. Out of Rogers's lips. Out of his — oh, for God's sake.

“I’m fine, Stevie-boy,” Tony exclaims, even though he's kind of swaying where he stands. “No one will hurt me here, really, unless I want them to!”

Rogers looks confused. “Uh.”

“That means only if I let them rough me up in bed,” Tony explains. Then he starts giggling, because Rogers didn't get it, and how is Steve Rogers so _Steve Rogers_?

Despite blushing again, Rogers then shifts. He almost looks guilty. “Oh! Well — Yeah, I mean — I saw you earlier tonight. With your… guest. Do you — What the heck am I doing, oh my God — Do you have a ride home?”

Tony's leering. “Are you offering?” he purrs.

Rogers remains unaffected. He's really oblivious. It's stupidly adorable.

He is instead making an expression of the phrase, 'aw, shucks’. “I wish I could help you, but I don't currently have a car.”

Tony frowns. “Then how are you going to get to Timely, hmm?”

Rogers sighs. “I’m gonna spend the night at M'Baku's. Hoping to find a clear room until T'Challa finds me in the morning and drives me home.”

Tony feels dread rising in him. Rogers cannot do that, Tony won't allow him to, hell, no — If he sleeps in one of those rooms, someone will approach him, try to get in his pants, and somewhere very distantly a more sober Tony wonders why this is at all Tony's problem, but drunk Tony is telling that Tony to shut the hell up, and is already talking out loud.

“Hitch a ride with me.”

Rogers blinks, long, blonde lashes falling over bright, blue eyes. “I — Where's your car?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “In Timely, Rogers, get with the program, I'll call Jar— my butler, he'll pick us up.”

Rogers is biting his lip. Again. Tony twitches.

Then Rogers starts shaking his head. He has a sad, twisted little smile on his lips. 

“That’s really sweet, Tony, but…” Rogers visibly steels himself. “But I don't think you'd be offering if you were sober. And I don't want to take advantage of you.”

And, well. Tony can't deny that. He would want to, no matter what state of intoxicity he was in, but… but he wouldn't offer unless he was this stupidly drunk.

It's one of those rules. Don't say or act on what you want when it's not favorable to everyone else around you.

Rogers takes his silence as confirmation of his statement. He sighs, looking away for a moment. Tony just stands there.

Then Rogers turns on him, determination etched into his features. “But you should really be getting home. It could be dangerous out here.”

Tony finds himself winking sloppily. “Danger’s my middle name.”

Rogers lets out a surprised laugh, one that's almost melodic. “Oh, really? Well, Tony Danger Stark, you wanna text that butler of yours to come pick you up?”

Tony scrambles to comply. Rogers is giggling, and if Tony is a bit more theatrical in his actions to keep that sound ringing in his ears, well. He's drunk, okay, sue him.

When Tony finishes with a whew and a swipe against his forehead, Rogers smiles and motions back to the house. “You wanna wait in there?”

Tony very decidedly doesn't, so he plops down on the curb of the sidewalk.

Rogers says something incoherent to Tony before he sits down next to him.

They're silent for awhile. It doesn't really matter to Tony, because he's wondering if there's somehow to coerce Rogers in the car without giving off the impression that he cares or wants Rogers to be there, but the quiet apparently gets to Rogers, because he clears his throat, awkwardly, making Tony look over to him.

Rogers is holding a little bag of M&M's to Tony. Tony stares at it, then stares at Rogers. Rogers blushes.

“It’s, uh,” he stammers. “Well, I — T'Challa really wanted me to come, so I did, but I felt really bad that I wasn't giving candy out tonight to little kids, so I got some candy just in case I ran into a kid. And you… Well, chocolate makes you feel better. Scientifically proven.”

Tony slowly grins again. “Who are you, Remus Lupin?”

Rogers blinks. “You like Harry Potter?”

“Thanks,” Tony deflects, grabbing the M&M's, because even drunk Tony knows that no one is supposed to know about the Harry Potter thing.

Rogers easily gives the prior topic up. “It’s no big deal.”

Tony looks over at him. “But it is.”

Rogers gives him a double-take. “Hm?”

“It’s a… It's a huge deal,” he says, and Rogers's eyebrows pinch. “All of it. You're… You're a big deal, Rogers.”

Rogers seems to eventually write it off as drunk rambling. “Thanks?”

Tony sighs. Rogers purses his lips, visibly looking for a new subject, and Tony takes pity on him.

“Nice costume,” he tells Rogers, who brightens.

“Thanks. It's actually my dad's old uniform,” he explains. “It’s a bit too tight across the chest, but it works.”

“Well, duh, _captain,_ ” Tony snorts, and Rogers arches a brow at the nickname. “You're like... Enormous! I swear, you used to hit my shoulders.”

Steve looked uncertain for a moment, but apparently caught on that Tony was teasing, because he rolls his eyes. “C'mon. I only hit your knees.”

Tony snorts louder, and it soon dissolves into hiccups and giggles. “True. And you were so skinny! Made me wanna... Feed you or something. Sounds weird. Anyways. You're big now, captain.”

Steve seemed to be torn between dwelling on what Tony said and trying to dismiss what Tony said. 

“Well,” he said slowly, “I think it looks better this way then when I was small.”

“Either way would look,” Tony paused, scrunching his nose up, “wonderful.”

Steve definitely dwells on that one. “Oh.”

Tony nods (much more floppier than he intends to, but it's whatever), smiling indulgently. Rogers flushes.

“You have a nice costume, too, but you must be cold,” Rogers frowns. Tony shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He opens up the M&M's, pours them into his palm, and holds it out for Rogers. “Want some?”

Rogers shakes his head. “Another thing Sober Stark wouldn't want. Sorry, Drunk Stark.”

Tony can't accept this answer because it's stupid so he pours the chocolates in his other hand, takes the M&M's wrapper, flattens it out, then puts it on the strip of sidewalk between them and drops the M&M's there.

He grins winningly at Rogers. Rogers gives the softest and nicest smile Tony's ever seen.

So they sit there, opening and eating tiny bags of M&M's, until Jarvis picks him up. At least Tony thinks so. He fell asleep before Jarvis arrived.

His eyes fell shut to Steve Rogers smiling. He rather liked it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony still struggles with his feelings for Steve Rogers, and an unexpected visitor comes in with astonishing news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the wait, everyone! some personal things have taken over my life, but i'm gonna try to keep writing and editing this! thank you to everyone who continues to give this lil story support :)

Tony, with all of his father's money, would pay any price for the invention of time travel.

“I can't go, Jarvis,” he repeats morosely. “I can't possibly go.”

Jarvis sighs, pulling Tony's arms through his leather jacket for him. “Sir, you _must_.”

Tony groans, shoving his face in his hands.

Waking up in his own bed on Saturday morning was great — the number of Saturday mornings that Tony _doesn't_ wake up in his own bed has been overwhelming lately. His hangover was mediocre and manageable, and he didn't even puke; it was a good morning. And when he trudged downstairs to get breakfast from Jarvis, he actually ate it all. _It was a good morning_.

Then Jarvis asked him how Mr. Steve Rogers was after last night, and Tony's good morning went down the drain when he remembered everything that had occurred the previous night.

It's Monday, now, and… Well, Tony had no doubts about Rogers. He knew Rogers wouldn't have publicly announced that he had to take care of Tony Stark and that Tony Stark was looking at him like he hung the moon and stars the entire night. 

But that didn't mean no one saw them. 

Tony spent most of Saturday tracking down every post made about M'Baku's party — after intensive stalking, he reached the conclusion that either no one had seen them, or no one who saw them had cared.

So maybe Tony didn't have to worry about that — the rules, and what would happen if people found out that he broke them. But that doesn't take away from the fact that he… he was all over Rogers.

_Fuck._

Jarvis hands him his keys. “Sir, I must stress that I'm confused as to why you're deterred from the idea of people knowing that Steve Rogers helped you. Though I remember the stories of him being harassed when he was younger, he now seems… I believe the wording would be _prone to admiration._ ”

“No, the wording you're looking for is fuckboy material,” Tony says bluntly. Jarvis frowns, but his eyes are twinkling. “It’s a long story, J. Hanging out with Steve Rogers is just something I can't do.”

Jarvis is quiet while he and Tony walk to the door. When Tony's about to say goodbye, Jarvis says softly, “I believe that I'd prefer you to 'hang out’ with Steve Rogers. He’s always seemed to be a well-inclined young man.”

Tony stares at Jarvis. After a moment, he sniffs, looking away. “He is. Bye, J.”

The day is tortuously uneventful.

Ty, Rumlow, and Cross all blabber on about the party on Friday, and Tony nods along, adding in little anecdotes when it's needed. Because of the block schedule, Tony doesn't have English, so Rogers isn't in any of his classes. Tony sees Thor, Banner, Romanoff, _and_ Wilson but they don't give him anything other than their usual reactions when seeing him. The soccer season is over, the team losing the game into the championship, and Coach is already pressing for training, so Tony, Ty, and Rumlow spend some time running drills in the field with some other guys playing football. Considering that Tony's been on the Varsity team since freshman year, he's most likely going to be captain in the upcoming season for senior year. He doesn't want to go out without a bang — he's gonna have to work hard. All in all, though... Tony didn't see Rogers once all day.

It shouldn't bother him as much as it does.

But it does, and when Tony finally lays in his bed that night and pulls out Instagram to see Rogers posted something, he — like every other Marvel High student — studied it like he was preparing for exams.

**imsteverogers** Saw you last summer, but I miss you like heck, _@jbuckybarnes_. (Mostly home, though.😉) Why's winter break so far away?

Tony stares at the caption. Looking at the picture again, and seeing Rogers from a year ago, all tiny and floppy hair that seemed too big for the rest of him, with a broad-shouldered, brown-haired, ridiculously attractive guy whose room in the background is decorated with sports trophies, and who's grinning like he just _knows_ he's better than you, and who has his arm wrapped around Tiny Rogers's shoulders who's smiling all bright and sunny is just —

Who the hell is this guy, anyway?

Taking a glance at the comments, Rogers already had his share of probing words thrown his way, yet Tony finds a comment that Rogers bothered to respond to.

**jbuckybarnes** aw little Stevie misses me & Brooklyn

hide 5 replies 

**jbuckybarnes** just wait a couple of more months 

**imsteverogers** I'll fight time, try me.

**imsteverogers** Timely has leading technology.

**jbuckybarnes** i just snorted out milk don't make me laugh steve

**imsteverogers** Well, don't die before I get there. ://

Tony doesn't really like @jbuckybarnes.

Or _James_ Barnes, according to his full name in his account — 'Bucky’ must be a nickname. He has a private account, but still has a little less than one thousand followers (Tony has over _two thousand,_ suck it, Barnes) and Tony only barely restrains himself against finding a way to hack into Instagram to get a look at the guy's 36 posts without having to request a follow and look like a stalker.

Ignoring his list of notifications and his accumulation of direct messages, Tony turns his phone off in favor of staring at the ceiling.

_James Barnes._ Steve Rogers… Steve… Steve _Barnes_.

Sounds terrible, honestly.

But… Hm.

Tony Stark. Steve Rogers. Steve...

Steve Sta—

Tony groans outwardly, shoving his face into his pillows. He has _got_ to get a life.

—

(On Snapchat later that night, Natasha Romanoff has a picture of her kissing Barnes's cheek. It's simply captioned: “ _He’s taken._ ”

It's enough of a statement that Tony can't quell down his stupid grin or the relief that floods his body and warms his cheeks.

Take that, Steve Barnes.)

—

The next day, Tony sees Rogers a lot, and he can't help but be more animate. In English, he volunteers for the monthly play that everyone always reads in monotone, and reads the lines like it's a Shakespearean production. The teacher actually cheers him on, and most people join in because that's what teenagers do. And, at the peak of his performance, Tony looks to Rogers, and he's smiling wide and bright and he's laughing. Because of Tony.

Tony knows he sent a silly, big smile back, but c'mon. He was helpless to do much else. Besides, he easily could've been sending it to Darcy Lewis who was behind Rogers, you never know.

Ty's always quick to act out more when Tony is — when Rumlow tells the table about Tony's act in English, Ty ends up starting a soccer match right in the middle of the cafeteria. Ultimately, he gets detention for it but everyone's cheering as he leaves the cafeteria, and he winks at Tony before Coulson sends Ty a warning look. The cafeteria was buzzing with excitement, and it's almost weird, because it's the first time in a while that the reasoning behind so isn't because of Steve Rogers, even though Rogers and his group were as loud as they always were — meaning Lang was still somehow making a show of eating everything on his tray.

It's almost like they're adapting, Tony realizes. The post of Rogers and Barnes — there were no homophobic slurs, just questions if Barnes was Rogers's boyfriend. The Infected thing has lost all entertainment value and no one's actively avoiding interaction with Rogers and his group besides people like Tony and his asshole friends. Hell — _Ty_ even kicked the ball to Sam Wilson, who passed it back, smiling. They're adapting.

Tony looks over at Rogers. Rogers is already looking his way. Tony smiles a bit.

Steve smiles back.

_Score_.

—

It's the first day of Thanksgiving break when Tony comes home and Jarvis is waiting for him at the door.

Tony furrows his eyebrows, opening his mouth to question what the deal is, when Jarvis says, “Your father is here.”

Tony feels his stomach twist.

“Yeah?” he says, flippantly. He walks past Jarvis, shrugging his jacket off. “Well, tell him I don't have any bright ideas for his little gun projects, but I — ”

“Sir,” Jarvis interrupts. “He wants to speak with you. It's urgent.”

Tony's jaw clenches.

“Anthony,” Howard says, no emotion in his tone as Tony enters his study. He's facing the window, and Tony's sent back to when Howard sat with a ten-year-old Tony down and told him that since Tony kept making the designs of guns and weapons that he had, he would be very proud to be his father, and then gave Tony a shot of whiskey. 

Tony stopped designing the weapons, but he didn't stop the drinking.

“Howard,” Tony mimics, the same tone and all. He sees the man's knuckles whiten around his tumbler of vodka. Tony feels himself go stiff.

“What kept you? Soccer practice?” Howard questions, like he actually gives a damn.

Tony almost laughs. He doesn't. “Soccer season ended a while ago.”

Howard's brow furrows, and he turns around. “You didn't win?”

“We won all of our games until — ”

“You didn't _win_ , though.” Howard points out. “Beating no good teams but not taking down one of the best makes the former mean jackshit.” 

Tony, despite everything in him contradictory, feels a bit of his confidence chip away. He makes a note to push the boys harder next year. Outwardly, he shrugs.

“There’s always next year.”

“That’s what I came to tell you,” Howard says, draining the rest of his tumbler then sitting in his chair. He grins at Tony, and Tony arches an eyebrow. “There actually isn't.”

Tony stares at him, uncomprehendingly. “What?”

Howard rolls his eyes. “There _is_ no next year for you. Not here, anyway.” Picking up a piece of paper on his desk, he slides it across the surface to Tony. Walking forward hesitantly, Tony takes it from him.

“I got the place in California,” Howard laughs. “Stark Arms is turning into _Stark Industries_.”

Tony feels the world spin around him as he stares at the paper.

It outlines the basics of what Howard's been dreaming of since before Tony was even _born._ A weapons company, working with the government, and turning their measly millions-a-year intake into something nearing… Nearing _billions._

Tony's hands are shaking. Howard's smiling brighter than Tony's ever seen him beam before.

“Obie worked some stuff out with his superiors.” Howard's explaining. “You remember your Uncle Obie? Well, I worked on that missile — the HOLDEN — for the Army a couple of years ago, and apparently that was enough to catch some attention. When your mom went to DC last year, she got brunch with some powerful people. Obie's been working as a weapons liaison for StarkWare for the Army for some time, and through some discussions, the HOLDEN was impressive enough to pull through. I got a twenty-year contract that I've got to respect with the Army which is gonna lead us to _billions,_ Anthony, _billions_ . We make some more places just selling guns and weapons on the East Coast — Timely's behind us. We're on to _better_ things now.”

Tony takes a step back. He hears himself distantly talking, but it's like he's hearing a conversation through a wall. “ _We_?”

Howard then smiles like Tony's a new one hundred million dollar contract. “ _We_ , Anthony. Now, I know you haven't contributed in the past because you don't like rednecks going trigger-happy with your designs, but this is _different._ This is for our military, Anthony, not these no-namers in a red state. You’ll be saving lives.”

Tony tries to re-grip on reality, but Howard's still _smiling_ at him and treating him like he's damn _worth_ something, and he doesn’t even like the military and their prejudiced shit, but Howard’s _looking_ at him—

And he doesn't have to worry, it hits him. It's just one last year — it won't bother Howard.

Tony actually smiles back, albeit still uncomfortable. “It… That's good. This is all… This is good. Especially that... we're doing it for the Army? Anyway, when are you leaving?”

Howard's smile slides off his face. 

“ _We’re_ out of here a few months before the school year ends.”

Tony blinks. Chuckles. “I — C'mon, Howard, it's my junior year. I can — I can stay here for one more year. When I graduate, I'll go to a different school then State, then come work for the new company. But you don't _really_ need me there for next year, right?”

Howard looks at Tony, gazing at him imperceptibly. Then he sighs. “I didn't want this to happen. I thought you'd _understand._ You can't stay here, Anthony.”

Tony stumbles where he stands, looking like an idiot but not caring. “What, I — You can't take me out the year before senior year, you can't make me _restart_ — ”

Howard sits up. “That’s just the thing — your mother pointed it out. I've just gotta pull some strings and you can just take the tests required for the courses you need to graduate then we'll ship you off to an Ivy League by the time you turn sixteen!”

“I _am_ sixteen,” Tony says plainly. Howard shrugs. Tony scrambles for words. “I — I wouldn't be able to pass tests for college yet, I can't — ”

Howard sends him a warning look. “Don’t lie to me, Anthony. Not a single person in this room thinks your grades reflect your brain. You're taking the tests by New Year’s.”

“Then I’ll fail them,” Tony shoots back.

“Then you'll go to school in California,” Howard replies, tone almost amused. 

“I’m not going to California,” Tony says after a moment. “Not until I graduate.”

Howard does smile, then. “Then you'll be cut off from the fund. Think your privileged ass will make it even a week out in the real world? You can't do anything without someone holding your hand, Anthony, you can't even _imagine_ it. You go to that school acting like you're a big shot when none of those people know that the real you would rather be making little _robots._ ”

Tony looks away from Howard. “You can't make — ”

“Boy, you're more guaranteed to be in California than I am,” Howard snorts, pouring himself another drink. “Better start saying your goodbyes and drawing up some designs.”

“I hate you,” Tony says.

Howard grins. “Right back at you, kid. Now get the hell out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: things get worse before they get better :/


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: alcohol abuse and mention of taking several pills

By Thanksgiving day, Howard's gone, and Tony's mom has only sent a postcard from Paris, reading: _Bambino mio — I cannot be home for Thanksgiving, unfortunately, but I heard your father told you about California. I'm excited!_

Tony rips it up into tiny pieces, takes it to his workshop, then sets the pieces on fire. His hand gets burned and Jarvis patches him up, wordlessly. Tony feels like he's eight years old again and Jarvis just found out about the robot dog Tony made that ended up exploding. Tony drinks through a bottle of liquor as soon as Jarvis left the room.

On Thanksgiving night, Jarvis takes a big dinner to Tony and watches Tony eat, eyeing the dark bags underneath his eyes. Tony tells him to go to Ana, his wife who takes care of the neighbors’ house, but Jarvis simply told him that they don't celebrate Thanksgiving, they're British.

Judging by how much Tony ate of his dinner, he doesn't celebrate it much either. 

—

On the following Friday, Tony goes through his messages until he finds an invitation to a party. He drives sixty miles out of Timely to get there, then proceeds to drink himself out of his mind.

In the morning, there are pictures of him shirtless and chugging a keg on MarvelUs.com, and the comments are exploding with appreciative remarks and phone numbers. 

Ty sends him a text simply saying: _thatll mk evryone forget abt hammer good job._

Tony drinks some more.

—

The day before school comes back, Tony wakes up with a massive hangover, but he still chugs half a bottle of _something_ as he bangs around in his workshop.

He throws the rest of the bottle at one of his failed robots in the corner of the room.

The piece of shit didn't work anyways.

That night, he swallows a dozen pills from a bottle he found in Howard's liquor cabinet and hopes for the best. When he glances at his phone, he has an unread direct message from **@imsteverogers**. 

He throws his phone at the wall before passing out like a light.

—

When Tony goes downstairs to eat breakfast the next morning, Jarvis sends him back up since he apparently smells. Tony does it without protest.

A quarter of the house is already packed up when Tony's leaving for school and he thinks he vaguely remembers some people coming in to do it but he was drunk for the majority of the break so he shrugs the thought off.

Tony looks at his phone for a minute while he sits in his car in the parking lot and he sees a surprise message.

**RHODEY!!!**

NOVEMBER 28

I'll be in Timely at Marvel High on the 2nd, kid, so don't

skip school. Being an inspiration for some kids for the

Force, you know the drill.

_sent 6:33 am_

DECEMBER 1

Tones?

_sent 12:56 pm_

DECEMBER 2

You here yet snickerdoodle??

_sent 7:35 am_

Ugh, not that nickname, I swear to God, Tony. 

_sent 7:38 am_

I'm in Timely, but I'm not going to Marvel High till

1200\. See you once you get out of school?

_sent 7:38 am_

You better ://

_sent 7:39 am_

Tony sighs. Rhodey. That's… That's relieving. Rhodey's basically his brother, he'll…

Tony steels himself. Rhodey. They need to talk.

At lunch, Tony sits at the table for three minutes before his eyes catch on someone who passes by, and he brightens before waving him over.   
  
Jim Rhodes reluctantly comes his way.   
  
Tony grins at him. “Hi, Rhodey.”   
  
“What do you want, Tony?” Rhodey complains as soon as he arrives. “I've got that meeting with the recruitments in like fifteen minutes.”   
  
“Busy, busy, busy,” Tony tsks, standing. He waves away Ty's comprehensive look, pulling Rhodey to the side. Rhodey's eyebrows furrow.   
  
“Wait, this is serious?” he questions, and Tony's jaw clenches, pulling him steadily to the hallway.   
  
When they're outside of the cafeteria, Rhodey looks like he already knows what this is about. Tony pulls him further down the hallway, down to the bathrooms. Rhodey's sighing.   
  
Tony's looked into every stall, underneath the sinks, above the ceiling lamps, and in the trash can, when Rhodey finally groans.   
  
“Tony, stop that, I'm not helping you or any of your friends play a prank on that poor New Yorker kid, especially after Sharon told me everything's he's been through this year — ”   
  
“I think I'm gay.”   
  
Rhodey stops mid-sentence.

“And…” Tony exhales. “And Howard's forcing me to go to California and making me graduate early.”

Rhodey takes a step back, eyes wide.

“And I'm really scared and tired and for once in my life, I don't want to leave Timely,” Tony says. Rhodey stares at him for a moment before wrapping him up in a tight embrace. Tony melts into it. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Rhodey murmurs into his hair. Tony clutches him tighter.

—

When school's finally over, the only thing on Tony's mind is his promise from Rhodey that they'll watch all the Star Wars movies tonight, even the sequels. It's a promise that Tony holds close to his heart.

Tony's walking to his car when he's intercepted. 

“Tony, there's something you need to see,” Rumlow grins at him.

Tony sighs. “No soccer today, man, I got such — ”

“No, this is bigger, bro!”

Tony groans but follows anyways. His date with Rhodey isn't until five, so he can waste a little time.

Rumlow leads him behind the school, visibly vibrating with excitement. Tony has a distinct feeling that he's rolling his eyes the entire way.

When Rumlow breaks out into a run toward a big van, Tony follows hesitantly — he isn't a stranger to the kidnappers in white vans, who is?

But when they get closer Tony furrows his eyebrows at the sight of Ty and Cross laughing, companionably talking to… _Justin Hammer_. Who they’ve been ignoring for over a month now. What the hell?

Rumlow's cheering. “I got Stark, I got Stark— Show him, Hammer!”

Hammer grins wide, smug and proud, at Tony before opening the doors of the van.

There are piles and piles of paint cans. The lids make up the colors of the rainbow. Tony feels his eyes widen in realization.

“I brought the rainbow,” Hammer tells Tony, dripping with self-satisfaction. 

Ty grins. “This is gonna top off any years before, Tones. I almost feel sorry for Rogers. Good job, too, Hammer.”

Hammer gushes, but Tony feels himself fill with self-loathe.

—

Tony stalls. 

At one point, Tiberius tells Tony a joke:

“By the time we actually pull the prank, you'll be coming out as gay, too.”

But it's not a joke. Tiberius has tells and he was staring at his phone while talking and had an eyebrow arched — so it's a warning somehow. 

For the following seven hours, there’s a voice screaming in Tony’s ears: _he knows, he knows, he knows, he knows, he knows_ —

Tony buys three-foot by six-foot canvas that night.

—

Rhodey sighs. “Do what's best for you, Tones. But first, talk to me, man. Or I'll make Pepper Potts force you to.”

Tony gave him a smile. Rhodey walked away with his luggage, and Tony felt his stomach lurch.

He wants to scream, _come back, I can't do this, I can't be alone anymore, I hate myself, I hate everything, I_ need _someone, I can't do it, I can't be **alone** anymore—_

—

While the group “gets artistic”, Tony drinks.

When he wakes up, the guys had painted a rainbow on his bare stomach.

Tony doesn't wash it off. As the weekend progresses, he lets it peel away on its own.

—

“Fuck, I'm gonna piss myself,” Rumlow's whispering to the table. “I can't wait to see his fucking face.”

Stone rolls his eyes, but he's grinning, too. Cross is peering over at Rogers's table.

“You think his group will stay with him this time?” he asks.

“‘Course,” Rumlow huffs. “They always do.”

Hammer smirks. “Even after Tony's awesome prank last year.”

“Oh my God, that yolk was everywhere,” Stone laughs.

“And _we_ had to clean it,” Tony murmurs.

“Best three hours I've spent,” Stone winks. Tony tries to grin back at him; he’s not sure if it works.

“Week before school is out, too,” Hammer says, excitedly. “We’ll be the topic of break.”

“ _Two_ weeks before Christmas and Tony's already handing out gifts,” Rumlow coos. “How kind.”

Tony tries the grin again, and Rumlow laughs.

Cross eyes his phone. “Six more hours, boys.”

Six more hours. 

They go by painfully fast.

—

It goes like this.

Three weeks ago, a jock had thrown a football in the 500 Hall. His buddy tried to catch it but it tipped off of his fingers, flinging to the ceiling and ripped the camera off of its position on the wall. The school hasn't replaced it yet.

Right before the end of every Monday, Coulson is stationed in the front of the school. One of the three halls that lead to the front of the school is the 500 hall, which is only lockers for the upperclassmen. It doesn't have working cameras. Steve's locker is in the 500 Hall. At the end of the day, every junior and half the seniors will pass through to get to the front of the school or the exits to the bus lines, most stopping to collect things from their lockers.

No teachers. No Coulson. Just an audience.

Stone appears in the doorway of Tony's last period class. He winks at him, before explaining to the teacher why Tony needs to be excused — something about soccer. They got the Coach's permission, too.

Cross and Hammer are being spotted by the football coach right now in order to give Rumlow, Stone, and Tony a proper alibi. 

It's a high school prank, orchestrated like a bank heist.

All from Tony's mind.

Rumlow grinned when he saw them. 

“Showtime.”

Stone pulled a bucket of divided paint colors out of his own locker while Tony broke into Steve — Rogers's locker. Tony ignored the prickling in his eyes as Rumlow took the colorful canvas out of his locker.

They were quick. Efficient. Even Rumlow.

Stone exhales softly. “Better go get Cross and Hammer so we all can have front row seats.”

Rumlow cackled as he raced out to the soccer fields, Stone following shortly. Tony followed, too.

—

It goes like this.

Rogers will be one of the first ones to get to his locker because his classroom is just diagonal to the 500 Hall. The blast area won't hurt many more people than him. 

By the time Rogers will reach his locker, the audience will already be growing and Tony and the group can blend in.

Rogers walks out of his class as Tony and the group enter the school again.

—

It goes like this.

Rogers will see Rumlow — always Rumlow. Rogers may see Cross. Rogers might get a glance at Stone.

Rogers never sees Tony.

—

It goes like this.

Silence. 

At first, no one laughs. It's silent.

It's like seventh grade. Rumlow's just poured an innumerable amount of glue on the tiny New Yorker kid. The kid's life is basically over.

But, like seventh grade, it doesn't last long.

He's covered in paint. He looks like a — well, a rainbow. There's a banner above him that has a slur on it and Tony barely doesn't flinch in surprise, because they didn't say it was going to be a _slur_.

Most people don't laugh. It’s generally silent, and everyone ( _they were getting used to it_ ) is shocked, whether they’re laughing or not. Tony doesn't laugh. He's supposed to but he can't muster one up this time.

Rumlow's laughing. Stone's laughing. Cross is laughing. Hammer is laughing. Around a third are laughing. There's a lot of cell phones out. There's a lot of unbelieving blinking.

Steve Rogers isn't laughing. His eyes are barely visible through the thick, colorful substances, but Tony can see that they're watering. He's frozen. He's in shock. This time — This time he wasn't expecting it.

 _They were getting used to it_ , Tony had thought. He wonders if Rogers thought so, too.

Sam Wilson is shoving through the crowds harshly, Natasha Romanoff and Scott Lang by his side. Wilson looks infuriated, in a stormy kind of way that immediately makes people move out of his way. Romanoff is as closed off as she usually is but there's an undercurrent of expression on her face. She's angry. Lang's just pale.

When they reach him, Thor had already gotten there, too. He rips the banner from the ceiling in one pull, a few people booing. Romanoff is briskly wiping the paint from Rogers's face and Wilson and Lang are grabbing Rogers's stuff. Thor pushes through the crowds, clearing a path for them; they follow him, all of them around a stumbling Rogers.

It's the first time one of Tony's pranks didn't make Rogers punch someone in defense.

Some are still laughing, others are walking away. Some are congratulating Tony and the group even though they didn't publicly take credit for it this time. Stone is grinning, gripping Tony's shoulder.

Rogers didn't fight back.

—

It goes like this.

Tony falls in love with Steve Rogers. 

But that's not allowed in the rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah that happened :(


	8. Chapter 8

It's a hate act.

Coulson has no suspects of who played the prank because he has no proof but by Tuesday morning, everyone's talking about how Coulson is calling it a hate act.

It is.

Half the school doesn't agree with that, though. It was probably one of Rogers's friends, they say — it was teasing. Besides, doesn't he like dressing up as a flag?

Principal Ross doesn't press it. He doesn't press most things that matter. 

Rogers doesn't show up on Tuesday. Tony's group calls him a pussy.

—

On Wednesday morning, Rogers shows up.

On Wednesday morning, Tony and the group are confronted.

They’d just gotten out of a soccer match, laughing about something stupid, all sweaty and sticky, heading to the gym to take showers before the school day starts, when Hammer is pushed to the school wall.

The rest of them jump back in surprise as Natasha Romanoff stares coldly at them. Sharon Carter approaches her from behind and, calmly, they stare at the boys.

It's silent, then Cross opens his mouth, “What the fuck is this?”

Hammer, still pressed to the wall, splutters. “Yeah, what the fuck is this?”

“You did it,” Carter says.

Stone sighs from beside Tony, a little smirk on his lips. “We’re afraid we have no idea what you're talking about.”

Carter tilts her head. The air changes around them — it seems to get colder. The boys shift. 

“You’re all so weak,” she says blandly. “You can't even own up to it.”

“Are you talking about that prank on Rogers?” Rumlow asks, innocently. “We don't know who had done it, but they left no trace. It's really too bad. Poor little queer — ”

Romanoff's fist connects with his face before he can spit out another word. 

It's more shocked silence. Then Rumlow, nose dripping, turns an ugly, splotchy red and snarls, “You fat bitch, I'm gonna make you pay for that — ”

He advances on her, arm raised, and Tony's starting to lurch forward in front of Romanoff when Rumlow's elbow is suddenly jerked back, and he stumbles forward from the unexpected drawback.

“Touch either one of them and I swear on my life you will regret it.”

They all spin to see Steve Rogers holding tight onto Rumlow's raised arm. His voice is low, dangerous.

Tony's heart starts beating rapidly in his chest. Rogers has tiny hints of red and blue in his hair, more emphasized because of the blonde background it's against. He has heavy bags under his bright blue eyes and he's not wearing his usual stark black jacket.

Tony guesses that after Monday, it's not very black anymore.

Rumlow huffs, a wet noise because of the blood from his nose, and jerks away from Rogers. “Look who decided to show up, boys.”

Tony can only distantly correlate what's happening to reality. Stone's tense next to them. They're both not made for this part — it's why Stone never actively hurt Rogers, or why Tony never went farther than the planning.

Rogers walks over to the girls, standing with them. Carter grips his arm.

“You really expect us to be scared of two little girls and their big baby queer?” Cross laughs out. “Give me a break, man.”

Carter arched an eyebrow. “And you all pride yourselves in an annual prank that only shows how truly creative you lot are outside of this once a year stunt. _Infected_ , really? What are we in, third grade?”

“Sharon, Nat, stop, we need to go.” Rogers is urging and Tony could almost laugh in relief if only his eyes weren't prickling again.

Then Stone finds a response.

“That’s bullshit, Carter,” he snorts and Tony feels his life breaking apart over the next few words. “Tony’s pranks on Rogers are the only thing that some people look forward to.”

Rogers pauses. Carter stiffens like a bowstring. Romanoff looks at Rogers.

Then Rogers looks at Tony.

Tony doesn't know what to do. 

Rogers wasn't ever supposed to know.

Rumlow's laughing. “And next year he's gonna think of something even better than this year's, aren't you, Tony?”

Tony's lips part. Rogers is staring at him — trying to get a gauge on what Tony's going to say next. Waiting to be disappointed or surprised.

Tony doesn't know what to do.

So he says,

“Of course,” and he's staring straight into those ocean eyes, the ones that are wide and hurt and “when do I disappoint, Brock?”

The group laughs. Romanoff's eyes snap to Tony and she says, “Finally I get to punch his lights out.”

Tony tenses but Rogers intervenes. “No, you don't.”

Tony starts at the tone of his voice. It's cracked — tender.

Because of Tony.

Romanoff grits her teeth. “Steve — ”

“Nat,” Carter whispers. “Let’s just go.”

Hammer snorts. “What the fuck is wrong with you all?”

They're walking away. Cross drop kicks Stone's soccer ball at their backs and as it descends down on Romanoff, she neatly ducks then kicks the ball all the way across the field.

Stone sighs. “You’re the one getting that back, Cross.”

Rumlow grunts. “What was that whole thing about, anyway? Why'd they come at us then just leave like that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony says blankly.

Unsurprisingly enough — it does matter.

As the day drags on, Tony's acutely aware of the extra amount of glares he's getting.

He's no stranger to glares. He's just a stranger to glares coming from the people who are sending them today.

The first one is Bruce Banner. It's first period where they sit next to each other and Tony smiles briefly at him like he usually does, always mindful that they're on different levels in the high school hierarchy. Banner usually sends him the same small smile back. He doesn't.

The second one is Sam Wilson. It's Wednesday and the block schedule tells Tony that he has English, which has both Wilson and Rogers in it. The football goons are all bunched together on one side of the room, horizontal to Rogers and as soon as Tony sits down, he feels eyes burning into the side of his face.

Looking over, Rogers isn't looking up at all or talking, seemingly doodling very concentratedly in his notebook. Wilson, however, is staring right at Tony. He doesn't look very happy.

Tony shifts. One of the football guys looks over at Wilson and Rogers. Grins, maliciously.

“Hey, Rogers,” he calls. “Your little hair highlights suit you — look like the little fairy you are.”

There's only a short splatter of laughter before Wilson stands, shrugging Rogers protests off. “You say anything to him again, you touch him again, you do anything to him and I'll rip you to shreds.”

Most of the class is silent but one of the guys huff. “Protecting your little boyfriend, Wilson?”

Wilson shakes his head. “Just stay away.” Then he looks back at Tony. “Especially you and your soccer boys, Stark.”

“Sam,” Rogers reprimands quietly. Tony stiffens.

“We’re done with him,” Tony says coolly. It's a lie. He doesn't think he'll ever be done with Steve Rogers.

Wilson just gives him another warning look. The class eventually starts chattering again, this time in low whispers.

Tony looks over at Rogers. Rogers doesn't look back.

After that, Tony gets an innumerable amount of glares from Rogers's friends. The worst are from Carter — she's friends with Rhodey and had always been lenient with Tony's antics, even when he hung out with assholes. 

Now she's looking at him like he's one of those assholes.

Which he is. The illusion was nice, that's all.

Thor doesn't smile at him when they pass each other on the field outside. Scott Lang continually throws tiny and sharp paper airplanes at him and his group during lunch until Coulson reluctantly tells him to stop. Gamora Titan calls him an asshole when she sees him. It's the first time she's ever talked to him. News travels fast.

Right before the school day ends, he sees Carter and Pepper Potts talking fervently. He quickly looked away. He doesn't care much for seeing people talking about him.

When he finally gets home, Jarvis is waiting for him. His eyes are apologetic.

“Your mother pressed me to tell you that it's time to pack up your room.” 

Tony didn't stop on his trek upstairs. “The day apparently can get better. I'll do it right now.”

After dinner, Tony's throwing half of his desk contents away when Jarvis knocks softly on his door.

“Sir,” Tony looked over, “you have a visitor. An old friend.”

Tony set the trash bag down.

“Hi,” he greets softly when he reaches the nearly empty parlor.

Pepper Potts is sitting primly in one of the few chairs left in the room. She doesn't say anything about the few boxes lining the walls.

“Tony,” she exhales and she looks tired — senior year, she must be exhausted considering her parents can't just pay her entry like Tony's. “Can we talk?”

Tony shrugs, flopping down on one of the other chairs. “You went out of your way to get here, I'd feel bad about kicking you out,” he winks. She gave him a small smile.

“Good, then,” she nods. Jarvis then comes in.

“Tea, two sugars, some milk for the lady, and straight black coffee for the sir,” he comments, setting the cups down in front of them. Pepper smiles wide.

“Mr. Jarvis, you are too good,” she compliments. “How did you remember?”

“An old man has to keep his secrets, doesn't he?” Jarvis replies kindly.

“Aw, c'mon, J, you're as young as the both of us,” Tony protests. Jarvis sent him a knowing look.

“As spring as a bat,” Jarvis agrees dryly. Tony grinned while Pepper giggled.

When Jarvis leaves the room, Tony kicks his feet up. “So. Miss Potts. What's led you to my humble abode?”

Pepper sighs, tucking strands of long, blonde hair behind her ears. “Well, Mr. Stark, we haven't spoken in a while. And — as news travels fast… Maybe we should've been.”

Tony stiffens. He lowers his feet. “Hm? Why?”

Pepper looks at him. “Because you've been an idiot.”

Tony stares back at her. Slips an easy grin on. “When am I not?”

Pepper huffs, quite frustratedly. “Tony, this one was crossing a line. This one was… personal.”

Tony's jaw clenches. “I think the noodles were quite personal to Rogers's skinny little body back then.”

“Stop it, Tony,” Pepper snaps. “Don’t do that. Not with me.”

“What do you want me to do, then?” Tony snapped back. “Can’t turn back time. Rogers will always have that wrecked event in his life!”

“Apologizing would be enough!”

“Apologizing would be _too_ much for anyone else in that godforsaken school!”

“Well, what do they matter, anyway?” Pepper asks, tone like steel.

Tony looks away from her. “You know that they do.”

Pepper then scoffed. “Oh, of course, I do. Of course, I know they matter to you. You've been playing their games for so long it must be an instinct to think about what everyone else will think first and not about what _you_ want.”

“And you know what I want?” Tony laughs cruelly.

“I know you didn't want to stop talking to me,” Pepper's voice cracked. “I know _that_ about you, Tony. Took a while but I know now. God, you're always letting them take over your life, and then you just — _bully_ who you and your little friends label as the 'actual’ pushovers. We've known each other since I was in seventh grade, Tony, and I always thought you'd eventually realize that — ” She cuts herself off.

Tony stays silent as she visibly collects herself.

She smiles then, eyes watery. “That you've always been so much more than them.”

Tony's lips part but nothing seems to be able to come out. 

Pepper stands then. She walks over and presses a kiss to Tony's forehead. Tony leans into the hug she gives him.

“So much more,” she whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i know that this chapter was honestly just more shit on the shit-cake that the last chapter presented, but next chapter has things looking vaguely better? sorry about the angst storm, everyone
> 
> also tony really needs to grow a spine 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE'S ANOTHER UPDATE I KNOW IT'S INSANE I'M UPDATING SO OFTEN !!!

When Friday finally hits, Jarvis watches Tony over his coffee.

After ten minutes of it, Tony finally acknowledges him. “Yes, Jarvis?”

Jarvis clears his throat. “I… I felt. I felt inclined to remind you that this is most likely your last day spent attending Marvel High. Your parents informed me that they've talked to your principal and as soon as you pass the college exams, you will be unenrolled.”

Tony blinks at his butler.

Jarvis offers him a cookie.

Eating the cookie, Tony let out a little puff of breath. “Yeah, it is, isn't it?”

“Sir,” Jarvis says, exasperated. “How exactly did you  _ forget _ ?”

Tony smiles, not unkind but bitterly. “There’s a… a kid at Marvel High. Makes me forget about most things. Very distracting. H- They're…” Tony shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter, does it, J? I… I completely ruined his life because I am the epitome of a shitty asshole moronic stupid human, and — This is stupid. It doesn't matter. You're right. I'm leaving very soon. I… I probably won't see him ever again after today.”

They sit quietly. Tony downs his coffee. “Thanks, J. I gotta go.”

Jarvis grasps his hand. Tony looks back at him. Jarvis looks him seriously in the eye. “Don’t leave this place with any lingering regret, Tony. Please.”

Tony starts at the use of his first name. After a moment, he tries his best reassuring smile but he knows it's shaky.

“Thanks, J,” he murmurs. “But it's too late for that.”

—

Stone smiles at Tony. “Hey, man.”

Tony nods back. Then, a bit off-put, says: “Hi, Ty.”

Stone doesn't dwell on the awkward greeting. But Tony does. It's the last time Tony will do it in a school setting. They've known each other since diapers, and now…

Tony'll be gone. 

Rumlow looks up at him. “Dude, are you okay?”

Tony blinks at him. Throws a smile out. “Yeah, man. Fine.”

Perhaps not the best method for going about this. Tony's never been great at planning.

They share breakfast like normal. When Scott Lang passes by, flicking an eraser at Cross's back, Tony smiles at him. Lang smiles back before shaking himself as if in realization then frowning at him.

It's fun.

Until it gets out of hand.

Halfway through the day, Tony seems to not be able to stop smiling at people. He even goes in the bathroom and slaps himself a couple of times, but when he walks out he still finds himself grinning at a short freshman, who furrowed her eyebrows at him before walking away quicker than before. When Tony can't even pull in his smile in the face of a stoic Natasha Romanoff (and further contemplates if letting her kill him would be too much of a big deal or get her into trouble) he, for the first time in a while, starts seriously worrying about his health. 

He's losing his entire life in less than a month, he's leaving the town where he's spent his childhood in less than a month, he has a big, rainbow-colored secret, and the person he's head over heels for hates his guts (and justifiably so because Tony's a stupid, idiotic fool) yet he can't stop  _ smiling _ .

It's the ten-minute transition between third period and fourth period when Tony's starting to call Jarvis because he's  _ smiling at Counselor Hill _ and it's  _ concerning _ when it all goes to shit.

—

_ Do what's best for you, Tones. _

_ So much more than them. _

_ Don't leave this place with any lingering regret. _

It's obviously Rhodey's, Pepper's, and Jarvis's fault for what happens next.

Tony will hold tight to that argument for when the aforementioned three scold him.

—

Gilmore Hodge. 

Asshole. Quarterback. Misogynist. Racist. Transphobe.

Tony, in all of his dealing with assholes like himself, always avoided Gilmore Hodge. He just wasn't completely sure that he'd be able to control himself around him. The guy's just such a… douchebag. And though Tony's also one and daily deals with them, Hodge is at that level where Tony's temper would probably snap.

So. The avoiding. For years.

Tony's really not feeling himself today, okay? He's kind of just… floaty.

When Tony sees a congregation of students around some of the lockers in the 500 hall, his phone in hand with his finger hovering over Jarvis's call button, he tilted his head before wandering over.

Sliding his phone in his pocket, he pushed through, people easily letting him by upon noting who it was, before reaching the center.

Gilmore Hodge was there. And he was drawing dicks all over Steve Rogers's locker. Above them, it read: ‘ _ Line up, boys, I'm ready to be used! _ ”

Tony's jaw clenches.

Hodge is definitely going to get his ass suspended. Even with the still-broken camera, even when a lot of people are giggling, even when he's intimidating as all hell — Hodge's handwriting can be traced and Coulson is on his sharpest to make sure discriminatory crimes are being paid with appropriate punishments. On top of that, the majority of the crowd are people who are tired of the homophobic shit, and they all seem to be contemplating ganging up on the enormous Hodge.

But, well. Tony keeps on seeing Rogers's watery eyes. His shocked stare. His lack of fighting back.

It's Tony's last day.

No regrets.

Stepping forward, Tony grabs Hodge's elbow.

Hodge's eyes snap over to him. Upon seeing him, Hodge smirks. “Hey, Stark. Took some inspiration from you and your pals. Like the art?”

“You’re no Michaelangelo,” Tony says evenly. “Point being said — I really don't think Rogers would appreciate this present, so maybe it's time to step back.”

Hodge stares at him. “Are you pulling my dick right now?”

“I don't think anyone would ever want to do that to you,” Tony spoke fast. There's shocked laughter from the crowd, but that's not why Tony feels emboldened. Tony feels emboldened because he can finally breathe, even for just a second, because he's finally _acting_. Hodge straightens, his height towering over Tony by at least five inches.

Which. _Oh, fuck_.

From the corner of his eye, Tony sees Rumlow arrive. “What the fuck is going on, Tony?” 

Tony ignores him. “Put the marker down, Hodge.”

Hodge stared at him some more before scoffing. “You’re fucking serious. Are you high, man? Aren't you the guy who thought of all of the pranks on Rogers from before?”

Tony tsks. “I am, I'm not, and I did. But why don't you just trust me when I say the best thing right now for you to do is to put the marker down.”

Hodge huffs out a laugh. Uncapping the marker, he sighs. “Always had a lot of respect for you, Stark. Your dad, mostly. Your guns are the best in the country. Now I see you're just like Rogers.”

Tony almost laughs. “Am I?”

Hodge nods, grinning. “You’re both little…”

Hodge starts to write something big across the rest of Rogers's locker.

_ F A — _

Hodge is starting to write the curve of the 'G’ when Tony grabs his shoulder, pulling him back, then snaps his fist into Hodge's face. 

Hodge's nose is bleeding. Tony's entire hand feels numb. Hodge is pulling his own arm back.

_Aw, fuck_.

—

Coulson stares at him.

Tony shifts in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

Coulson continues to stare at him.

Tony adjusts the ice on his eye.

Coulson stares.

Tony groans. “Can you throw me a bone here?”

Coulson nods. “Sure. Why did you do it?”

Because I'm sorry. Because Steve Rogers is a million times more important than just his sexuality. Because Steve Rogers taught Tony that being different isn't a weakness. Because Tony hates guys like Hodge — like himself. Because Steve won't fight back on this. Because Tony is tired of being someone else. 

Because Steve Rogers deserves so much more and Tony's trying to finally help perfect that imbalance.

Instead, Tony just shrugs.

—

**PEPPER**

DECEMBER 20

You're an idiot. 

_ sent 1:57pm _

Sharon's impressed.

_ sent 1:57pm _

I aim to please.

_ sent 2:03pm _

—

Principal Ross, on account of knowing both Tony's and Hodge's parents, let them off with a 'Merry Christmas’ and a fine for school vandalism from Hodge since Coulson insisted.

Coulson smiled at Tony before Tony left with a very distressed-looking Jarvis. Tony grinned back.

He'd miss that guy.

—

Jarvis sighs. “I think it's time you tell me some things, Sir.”

Tony flops down across the counter. “Probably.”

After three hours of talking, Jarvis was refilling Tony's cup. 

“Do you regret it?” he asks softly.

Tony smiles. “Not a bit.”

Jarvis smiles back. “Then I'd consider it a victory. That Mr. Hodge was sporting quite the bloody nose.”

Tony laughs. Then, realizing everything he just told his butler, clears his throat. “I… And about — What do you — ”

Jarvis shoves the cup in his hand. Softly, he says, “I’ve been caring for you and your parents since before your birth, Sir. No small matter such as sexual orientation will change the amount of affection I hold for you.”

Tony hugs him. Jarvis hugs him back.

—

**RHODEY!!!**

DECEMBER 20

cant talk 4 long but shar told me how awesome you were 2day good job man

_ sent 5:24pm _

Doesn't make up for much, honey bear.

_ sent 5:26pm _

It's a start.

_ read 11:57pm _

—

**UNKNOWN NUMBER**

DECEMBER 20

I still hate you, Stark. But good job on the right hook.

_ sent 8:32pm _

im blushing

_ sent 8:42pm _

merry christmas, romanoff

_ sent 8:42pm _

Fuck you, too.

_ read 8:43pm _

—

**TY**

DECEMBER 21

whyd you do it

_ sent 1:43am _

life was getting boring i guess

_ sent 1:50am _

ur uninvited to my christmas party

_ sent 1:51am _

have a good life ty❤️❤️

_ sent 1:51am _

go suck a dick tony

_ read 1:52am _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so to everyone worried about tony having a good redemption arc, is this a good start? like i'm kinda reaching for this im1 vibe where he's a piece of shit and then he does a full 180 and everyone's just like :0 bc pre-im1 tony is like first eight chapters of this tony 
> 
> anyways, i really hope you all like this chapter! i'm not a fan of how it turned out but i rarely am,,, anyways, next chapter is all sorts of fun, so see you then ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi please accept this month-late update
> 
> trigger warning for domestic abuse, please check the end-notes for more info!

It's the second night of break and Jarvis is cleaning the counters. Tony shows him another one. He frowns, disapprovingly.

“Shouldn’t someone take those down?” Jarvis asks, obviously upset.

Tony stares at the tweet calling him Rogers's cock-sucking whore. It's from Hodge's little freshman brother. They always start young.

Tony snickers. “I kinda like them. Is that too exhibitionistic of me?”

Jarvis's lips twitch although he tries his best to remain serious. “Well, certainly not an improvement of your fondness for your black eye.”

Tony sighs, the mention making it throb. “My social life is so terrible right now, it's a blessing that I'm gonna be the youngest kid at college next year.”

Jarvis grumbles. “It makes me beyond upset that you're so happy about moving from your home, Sir.”

Tony grins. “Me, too. Y'know I wasn't so happy at first but then the only good thing here found out the extent of my assholeness, and, well…” Tony shrugs. “Everything else isn't worth it.”

Jarvis sighs. “But that shouldn't be true, Sir.”

Tony's about to talk but the doorbell rings. Jarvis finishes wiping one section of the counter before disappearing to answer the door.

Tony quietly continues scrolling through his timeline when he hears the first yell.

“ _W_ _here the hell is that shit_?”

Shooting up, Tony listens more closely.

“Howard, please calm down, he still needs to explain himself — ”

“ _H_ _e’s not thinking of_ — ”

“Master Stark, please, if you would allow me to shine light on the subject — ”

“Stay the _hell_ out of this, Jarvis! You, too, Maria!”

Tony tenses before racing to the front of the house.

Howard's still yelling and shouting when Tony gets there. Upon seeing him, Jarvis motions him to move away but Tony stubbornly stays where he is.

“Hey, Howard,” he calls. “You looking for me?”

Howard turns, face dangerously red. “ _Anthony.”_

Tony's mom straightens. “Tony, dear, please go back to — ”

“No, you — Mom, he can tell me whatever he needs to say,” Tony insists. He smiles wide at Howard. “What’s the dilemma, _Pops?_ ”

Howard stalks toward him, only pausing when he realizes Jarvis is still here. Like Jarvis doesn't know every single thing that has happened in this house.

Howard grabs Tony's arm. “We need to have a talk.”

Tony sees his mom speaking furtively to Jarvis, who, with reluctance in his every movement, leaves the room. His mom rears back to the situation at hand.

“Howard, let go of our son,” she directs sharply. 

Howard drops Tony's arm harshly. His mouth works, furiously. Tony huffs.

“You want designs?” Tony questions, angry and confused. “Talk to me, Howard, do you want a good pitch for California? 'Cause I'm sorry, but I was trying to live out my last days in the place I was born before I started doing _your_ work for you — ”

“What I want to know,” Howard fumes, “is why Rebecca Hodge called your mother this morning telling her about how you punched her son out.”

Tony feels his stomach twist. His mind races.

He motions to his black eye. “I got into a fight, so what,” he sneers. 

Howard scoffs. “Over a pansy's feelings.”

Tony doesn't think — he steps forward, growling. “Don’t call him that.”

His mom sighs. “Tony, if you could help us and go over what happened — ”

“And why you're suddenly defending queers,” Howard snorts.

Tony stiffens. “I’ll explain, Mom, just keep the dog on the leash — ”

Howard rears toward him. “You talk like that to me again, boy — ”

Tony's mom steps forward. “Howard — ”

“We know his name is Steve Rogers,” Howard tells Tony. “We know he's a social reject, a _loser,_ and that your own friends know it. We know no one gives a damn about you anymore and that you and Tiberius Stone have stopped talking. We know Rogers's mom is barely scraping by and that she works under the company.” Howard's nostrils flare. “We know about the raises she's gotten. We know that for some reason you took up a charity case for a goddamn fa— ”

Tony reels back. “Great on you, then. We're moving, it doesn't matter — ”

“Tony, your father and I were planning to throw a farewell party,” his mother explains. “But… after your recent troubles at school, five pre-invited families have declined.”

Howard visibly angers at the words. “Any hope, any _thought_ you had about getting to stay here is gone, Anthony. _Gone_.”

Tony looks at him, incredulously, before laughing, hard. “You don't think I already realized that?” he laughs, breathlessly. “Why else would I punch out that overgrown toddler? Why else would I finally do what's right — ”

Howard tenses. Tony's eyes widen in realization.

He laughs harder.

Tony's mom sighs again, looking away from both of them. Tony eventually finds time to breathe.

“Oh my — You — ” He wheezes. “That’s — That's _great,_ Howard.”

Howard snaps. “Well, you aren't, are you?”

Tony looks at him, amused. Straightens. He lays a hand on his father's shoulder and smiles.

“Howard. I am _so_ fucking bisexual.”

Tony sees it coming. From miles away. But Howard's fist connects with Tony's face before Tony can register that he's actually going to do it.

“ _Howard_!”

A good third of Tony's face feels numb from Howard hitting his bruised eye. Tony swallows.

Howard's face is ghostly white. Tony's mom is at Tony's side, an arm wrapped around his shoulder securely. She's herding him away from the room, speaking fiercely to Howard. It's all kind of muffled.

Jarvis is there quickly, though. With them both with him, Tony doesn't feel too bad.

Except when Howard finally regains control and calls him some selective slurs.

He's fine.

—

Jarvis looks at him. “Sir — ”

“I’m fine,” Tony says bluntly.

—

“Tony, darling,” his mom murmurs. She sweeps his hair back from his forehead, kissing his skin softly. “I’ll try to be home for New Year's for the move. Your father wants to get in this last meeting with the Senator in, so we can't be here on the 25th. I… Are you okay, love?”

Tony's already walking away. “I’m fine.”

—

Howard throws a card at him. “Call this number. Get all the tests done by New Year's.”

“Okay,” Tony says.

—

He does. He spends the entirety of the 22nd doing the tests for the few high school courses he needed. They're stupidly easy. 

That night, he and Jarvis fight tooth and nail on when Jarvis will leave to spend Christmas with Ana. Jarvis keeps making the argument that Ana would be fine with spending Christmas in the house with him and Tony. Tony keeps yelling a variety of things that Jarvis barely reigns in the eye roll that he wants to slip out at most of them. Somehow, Tony wins. Probably at the point where he's just asking to be alone. 

Nonetheless, Jarvis looks incredibly upset and frustrated as he sees Tony off for Tony to do his SATs and some other state-issued exams that he'll miss out on. Tony waves him off.

Rhodey calls him twice but Tony declines the call both times. Rhodey tries again later. Tony declines that one, too. Rhodey tries a lot — Tony ignores him.

He drinks the last of his liquor collection that night. It makes his childhood bedroom finally empty of all the things that are of use to him.

As he sits alone in his room, drowning himself in alcohol, he knows he should be thinking of a lot of things. 

But there's only one thing — _person_ on his mind.

And he'll most likely never see him again.

—

Tony wakes up at seven in the morning on Christmas Eve and he has to run to the bathroom to vomit.

He brushes his teeth three times after. Then he cleans up the mess of broken bottles he made on the ground.

While doing so, his gaze falls to a pile of papers that weren't there before. Looking through them, he huffs. Weapons designs. That he made while being drunk.

That are pretty damn good.

He shoves them in a trash bag with the broken bottle pieces. 

—

It's like the last day at Marvel High, again. Tony's vaguely aware that being indifferent to everything around him is an odd sensation when he's literally completely alone in an enormous house with no personal touches to it whatsoever with only two suitcases of his clothing and a lot of bad memories, but, well —

Tony's really tired. And feeling indifferent is better than feeling anything else. Anything else always hurts.

So. He grabs his laptop and starts absently designing a new idea for the coding in one of the scraps of robots he made. A few hours in, Tony looks out the window to see snow pouring down in sheets. 

He stands, abruptly.

He's in the mood for some M&M's.

There's some peppy pop song playing from the radio in Tony's car while he's driving to the nearest gas station, and he finds it distantly hilarious that he both hates it and sings along. It's playing in a constant tune in his head even as he enters the store and he's humming and muttering incorrect lyrics to it as he beelines to the candy aisle. 

He has two bags of original M&M's before — “Fuck it.” — ditching his self-control and grabbing bags of all different kinds. 

He's wandering to the drink section, arms overflowing with candy packets, singing, _“If one and one is two, and if me and you ever grew, then maybe I could finally, finally, finally say... That I love y—”_

“ _Tony?_ ”

“OH MY GOD!”

Tony shrieks, jumping back in surprise, drops all of his M&M's, the eight or so packets flying across the ground.

“Oh my — Gee, I'm so sorry — Let me just — ”

Tony gawks. 

Because it's Steve Rogers. Looking as lovely as ever. But he's looking at Tony. Tony, who is in old jeans, a very old, loose t-shirt, and a jacket with unwashed hair and bags underneath his eyes, singing a _terrible_ song about being in love, all while carrying an overwhelming amount of M&M bags.

_Just shoot him on sight._

Rogers's cheeks are a bright, vibrant red as he scrambles to clean up Tony's mess and Tony's chest aches just a little bit more. 

Upon realizing what's happening, Tony drops to his knees, frantically gathering bags himself. Rogers hurriedly pushes the bags he collected in Tony's direction. Tony flings to his feet once the packets are precariously balanced in his arms. 

Tony flails a little. “Steve. Rogers. Hi.”

Rogers is red again. He should get that checked.

“Hi,” he exhales. Tony, horrifically, finds his own cheeks heating up at that. Now _he_ should get that checked. Then Rogers's eyes go wide. “Oh, no, your eye looks _terrible_ , Tony, I'm so sorry — ”

Tony interrupts because _no_. “No, don't worry, it doesn't even hurt! See — ” he taps twice against the swollen skin and _ow, holy fucking hell_ “ — doesn't even sting.”

Steve purses his lips in distress, but nods. “That's good. Good.”

It's quiet for a moment.

Shifting, Tony clears his throat. “So, uh. Sorry about this.” He vaguely motions to the pile of M&M packets in his arms.

Rogers gently dismisses him with a slight wave of hand. “It’s fine. Christmas gift.” He gives a small, adorable smile. Tony hopes Rogers can't hear the frantic beat of his heart.

“Christmas,” Tony blurts. Rogers furrows his eyebrows. “It’s Christmas Eve. What are you doing in a place like this?”

What Tony doesn't say is _I thought you were going to New York_ , because even if Tony is moving to California, he doesn't want to leave Rogers thinking Tony was a stalker.

“Oh, uh.” Steve clears his throat. “Well, slightly long story?”

Tony gives a little, weak smile. “You’ve got five minutes. No, I'm kidding, just tell me, Rogers.”

Steve smiles a bit at that. “I’m actually supposed to be in New York right now? Yeah, but I was uh, feeling a bit under the weather and really couldn't find it in me to even board the plane. But my friend, Bucky, came over here from New York — a complete surprise — so I had to get away and buy a quick present for him.” He motions to the messenger bag that holds something in a box-shape.

“At a gas station?” Tony probes teasingly.

Steve huffs at that, smiling still. “Nah. I only came here to get. Well. M&M's.”

Tony looks down at his candy. When he looks back up, Steve's already looking at him, wide-eyed. The memory of Halloween night seems to blanket the air around them.

Steve clears his throat. When he speaks, it's in a blur of words. “Anyway, Buck says he's here for me, but the only thing he's done since he's got here has been looking all heart-eyed at Natasha which is understandable since they've been dating for two years but have only seen each other maybe ten times — got no idea how they do it, honest — anyway I'm glad for them, really, but it was a relief to be away from all of that _mooning_ so — ”

“Rogers,” Tony interrupts. Steve stops talking, startled and gorgeous. “I’m sorry for… everything.”

Steve stiffens. Tony breaks.

“I’ve been… Very, very stupid for these first sixteen years of my life. Basically. And. Well, now's a great time to stop that? So, Steve. I'm so sorry. Words will never be enough, I know that, but.” Tony lets out a frustrated noise. “I — Okay, look, you're really… Amazing. That — That sounds weird, I know, god, but. You are. Amazing, that is. You're very uh, inspirational? Admirable? And right now you're very red, too. I was thinking that you should get that checked, by the way. Anyway, I don't want to leave Timely with you thinking that — that I thought you were some disgusting person or whatever, because I really don't, I think you're _amazing_ — ”

“‘Leave Timely’?” Steve interrupts.

Tony blinks. “Huh?”

Steve frowns. “You said there were things you wanted me to know before you 'leave Timely’. What — Why are you leaving Timely?”

Tony gapes. Snaps his mouth shut. Winces.

“Well, funny you mention that,” Tony laughs, nervously. “I uh, I. Yeah? I mean, yes, I am leaving Timely. I mean. Moving. From Timely.”

Steve makes a noise in the back of his throat. His eyebrows are furrowed further than Tony's ever seen them. His mouth is opening and closing around speechlessness.

“I’m — ” Steve stutters out. “No, I just — Where are you going? How long? When are you leaving?”

Tony frowns a bit at the questions. He and Steve were obviously never close friends, closer to enemies, so Steve asking him these things instead of ‘Gee, hate to see you go, pal, but my life's about to get a whole lot easier!’ is just a tiny bit odd.

Still, he shrugs. “I’m not gonna make it to the end of the semester. It's gonna be to California. And, uh. Well. Forever. Not to sound overly dramatic.”

Steve's lips part. “Oh.”

Tony nods sharply. “Yeah. So, I know I've been an absolute _fiend_ to you once a year continuously for the past three or four years, but I never… I always thought you were amazing, Steve. Honest.”

Steve's kind of just staring at him.

Tony clears his throat. “Well, now I've gotta go, so… It was really nice to see you. This is goodbye, so… Bye.”

Tony, feeling his throat start to develop a lump, takes a long-lasting look at Steve Rogers, and for the first time in his life allows himself to think it, to admit it, to free the thought —

Steve Rogers is stunningly gorgeous. 

Tony turns and walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a lot of tension building up when howard hits tony. it's a single punch, but it sends tony down a spiral of depression. 
> 
> and now: :( smitten idiots :((((((((((( 
> 
> i'll try my best to get a new chapter out next week! i hope this one was worth the wait and that tony singing was a lot of second-hand embarrassment because it was for me and i wrote it :D


	11. Chapter 11

“Tony!”

Tony pauses. He grips the M&M packets harder. Spins on his feet.

“Yes?” he asks.

Steve looks like he's about to fall over. Tony can't blame him. He feels a bit like his world is falling apart, too. 

“I — ” Steve's stuttering again. “Tony.”

Tony shifts. “Yes?”

“Would you like to come over for Christmas?”

Tony blinks.

Steve gnaws his lip. “People will be going in and out, but it's gonna be a full house most of the time, so. If you'd like to… come, I mean. You're welcome to.”

Tony opens his mouth, but words are struggling to come out.

Steve shutters. “Gee, I'm sorry, what was I thinking, you've probably got… Parties and — and other things to do, I'm sorry — ”

“I’d love to,” Tony says.

Steve cuts himself off. His eyes widen. Tony smiles weakly.

Steve bites his bottom lip. “R-Really? Because. Because if you're only doing this because you — you feel bad and wanna make it up to me — ”

“No,” Tony presses, taking a step forward. “No, no, no, not at all. Really, Rogers. I'd… I'd _love_ to.”

Steve's lips start to twitch into a smile, but then it stops. “And… This isn't a prank?”

Tony purses his lips. “My dad is moving us to California because he's now making the big kind of guns. Stark Arms is staying up for a while here before Howard shuts it down and takes away a lot of people's jobs. Yesterday I finished exams and am going to be sent off to MIT or CalTech by the time I'm seventeen. And… And you are the only person attending Marvel High School that knows all of this.” He shrugs a bit. “So, Steve Rogers, you are the only person at Marvel High School that I'd love to spend Christmas with.”

Steve kind of looks like he's floating. He pinches himself, not-so-subtly, and Tony feels a smile slide onto his lips. Steve mirrors it.

“Okay,” Steve murmurs. He grabs an M&M packet off of a shelf, grins wider at Tony, then starts toward the cash register. Tony is helpless to do anything but follow.

—

“Since you questioned me, I feel obliged to ask you some questions myself,” Tony tells the side of Steve's face.

They're in Steve's car after Tony dropped his car off at his house and ran in to change very quickly — upon realizing he only had a handful of outfits in a duffel bag, he had had a two-second panic attack before throwing something on that had red on it (because hey, that's kind of festive, isn't it?) then ran outside after throwing on his jacket and grabbing his M&M's. 

All in all — it's not what Tony would totally pick to wear on a night where he spends time with Steve Rogers.

Oh, god. A night with Steve Rogers.

Steve glances at Tony, cheeks red. “Shoot.”

“The first one is: Do you have a history of kidnapping reforming, asshole classmates?” 

Steve lets out a short laugh. “I try not to make it a habit. I promise, Tony, I'm not kidnapping you.”

Tony squints at him. “Not necessarily reassuring, but I'll take your word for it. Second question: How far away do you live?”

Tony knows exactly where Steve lives. But that's creepy. Uber creepy.

Steve shrugs a bit. “Not too far. Uh, three blocks away from here. And, well.” Steve shifts. “My house… I — Your friends are very… My house doesn't exactly look like Tiberius Stone's house.”

Tony studies the side of Rogers's face. Steve steadily stares ahead.

Tony then shrugs, twisting in his seat. “Good. Stone had these _ugly_ marble statues of like, his entire family in the foyer of their house. It was just. Terrifying. And super ugly. So, really. Thank God. I hope your house is nothing like his, or I'm really gonna have to bail.”

Steve's lips tilt high and bright into a smile. He glances at Tony, cheeks burning red. “Oh? Well, I can assure you, Mr. Stark, there will be no marble statues.”

Tony grins, relieved he answered that one thing correctly. “Perfect.”

“Here it is.” Steve pulls over. 

Then he kinda just sits there. Tony isn't exactly complaining — his nerves are practically vibrating — but it is an odd reaction out of Rogers.

Steve frowns then. “I… You might be wondering why they're all gonna be here on Christmas, and, really, there's an explanation for that. Multiple. Scott doesn't come from the best family, and neither does Nat. Buck's parents aren't always… there, and Thor's and Loki's parents are usually in other states, Sharon lives in a foster home, Sam's dad usually spends it with us since his mom is deployed in — ”

“Steve,” Tony interrupts softly. “I’m here, too. All I can conclude from this whole thing is the kindness of you and your mother. Besides, it's not any of my business.”

Steve stares at him.

Tony clears his throat.

Steve studiously looks away. “Let’s go in. I think some proper introductions are necessary.” Steve brightens then. “Plus, you haven't met Bucky yet! Bucky's the best. You'll love Bucky.”

Tony doesn't say anything, but he kinda doubts that.

When Steve and Tony are out of the car, it's snowing again. Steve looks up at the falling snow and gives it a smile that Tony's never seen on him before.

It's _gorgeous_. 

Steve looks back at Tony. His cheeks tinge pink. “Sorry. It's just… beautiful.”

Tony clears his throat, looking away. “It really is.”

The Rogers's house is a one-story, subdivision home — moderately sized and nearly exactly like the one next to it, but it's cared for. In the window, shadows of a Christmas tree and a group of people are talking animatedly. The driveway is shoveled, there are rows and rows of lights hanging, and there's an inflatable Santa in a sleigh on the roof.

Steve smiled proudly when he told Tony: “Ma put that up there. All five feet and three inches of her.”

At the door, Tony shifts on his feet. Steve arches an eyebrow as he knocks on the door. Tony purses his lips.

“Should you have… Told them before? That I was coming?” Tony asks.

Steve's pink lips stretch into a terribly mischievous smile. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Tony gives a startled laugh. “Rogers, you're a horrible — ”

The door swings open, and Tony turns to see a built man with long, dark hair and a frown on his face.

The man takes one glance at Tony before pulling Steve into the house and slamming the door behind him.

Tony slumps.

Not two seconds later, the door swings back open and Steve looks stormy.

“I am _so_ sorry, Tony,” he apologizes. “But my friend Bucky here is apparently in one of his _moods_.”

Steve's friend, Bucky Barnes, is standing behind Steve, and he does indeed look moody. 

“So you're _Tony_ ,” he says evenly. 

Tony stares at him. Then he looks at Steve. “I should leave.”

Steve rolls his eyes before elbowing Barnes back. “No, you should _not_. Please come in, Tony, and ignore the big, obnoxious lump behind me.”

Tony pauses only for a moment longer before stepping into the Rogers home. Barnes is shooting him a red hot glare.

Steve is chucking off his shoes and jacket, motioning for Tony to do the same. Throughout the process, Barnes glares at the back of Tony's head.

Well. It's not like Tony doesn't deserve it.

“Will you stop that, Bucky? It’s my house, I can have guests over,” Steve snaps at his best friend right as a vaguely familiar voice calls, “Bucky? Is Steve back?”

“Yeah! He brought a stray with him!” Barnes answers, then smirks. “Nat won't let him stay.”

Tony winces before looking at Steve apologetically. “She really won't.”

Steve shakes his head, stubbornly. “My house.”

Barnes rolls his eyes and tries to barrel through, but Steve puts a hand on his chest and smiles at Tony through barred teeth. “Tony, this is James Barnes, but everyone calls him Bucky. Buck, this is Tony Stark.”

Barnes frowns at Steve. “I know who he is.” Barnes frowns at Tony. “If Stevie wasn't here, I'd sock you in the jaw.”

Tony nods slowly. “Nice to meet you, too. When I was in third grade, I thought that if I believed in myself enough that I would fly, so I thought really hard before jumping off my house's second-story balcony.” He opens his mouth wide and points at one of his canines. “Thatssa fake toof.” He informs Steve and Barnes. 

Steve looks concerned and vaguely confused. “Were you okay?”

“Rogers, I lost a tooth,” Tony laughs. Steve flushes.

Barnes squints. “What was that story for?”

Tony shrugs. “I lost my tooth because I thought I could fly. It's a terribly embarrassing story. I'm trying my best to even everything out.”

Steve beams at him. Tony flushes, too. Barnes squints harder.

Then huffs. “Nat’s still gonna kick him out.”

—

“No.”

“Yes.”

“ _No._ ”

“ _Yes._ ”

Romanoff frowns. “I don't like him.”

Tony shifts, awkwardly, and Barnes smirks.

Steve opens his mouth to talk, but someone talks over him. “Ooh, who do we not like?”

The four teens swivel around to see a short, beautiful woman in the doorway to the living room, feet in socks, and a tired expression. She looks like the female equivalent of how Steve would look during winter in the years prior to his muscle gain - she looks exactly like Tony remembered her. Romanoff straightens.

“That guy,” she says, pointing at Tony. The woman looks over at him, then blinks.

"Well, by heavens," she laughs, "is that you, Tony Stark?"

Tony reddens. She still has this terrifying all-knowing expression on her face. “Uh — Yeah. Yeah, it's me. A little rougher around the edges, but still me."

Her eyes shone. "Oh, yes, you were, what? Thirteen when we met?"

Romanoff glares hard. "What?"

"Yeah, thirteen." 

"You've definitely grown! And so has Steve, but not so much in some areas..."

Steve makes an aborted noise. “Ma — ”

Sarah Rogers puts her hands up in the air in surrender. “I didn't even say anything, Steve!”

Barnes huffs. “I think we should toss 'im, Sarah.”

Sarah squints at Tony. Tony gives her a bit of a helpless smile. “Hi. I'm kind of a jerk.”

Steve's lips twitch. “But he's reforming.”

“Definitely,” Tony nods. Barnes huffs. Romanoff eyes him.

Sarah stares at him for a moment longer, then beams. “Then come on, Tony! These three lumps are useless in the kitchen, and I need some help on preparing all of the dessert that the other lumps will stuff themselves full of.”

“It’s just Thor,” Steve argues, as Barnes gawks and protests, “It took you two years to lift the exile I had from sleeping over at Steve's!”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “Steve Rogers, everyone knows who eats all of the butter pecan ice cream. And James Barnes, I placed that exile because you kept on daring Steve to fit himself into small locations, and the boy's stubbornness was getting him all kinds of bruises. Now, Stark,” she barks.

Tony jumps. “Ma’am?”

Sarah smiles pleasantly at him. “How good are you at making fudge?”

“I learned when I was five,” Tony reports, then shrugs. “Jar— Butler thought it'd be a convenient skill to have.” 

Sarah nods. “Smart man. For anyone, chocolate is the way into their heart. C'mon, son.”

Tony trails after the tiny woman as she tells him about her favorite chocolate to use, and wonders just how his life has led to this moment.

Behind him, Romanoff's saying, “Why in hell did Sarah like _him_ immediately?”

The last thing Tony hears before he goes into the kitchen is Steve saying, “Must be something genetic.”

—

The first person to arrive is Sam Wilson and his dad. Sarah leaves Tony cutting the cookies into little shapes to greet them, halfway through a story of how much Cameron from work is terrible. Tony inhales slowly before following her out.

Wilson frowns as soon as he sees him. “What’s he doing here?”

“He was my kitchen assistant, but I'm trading him out for Paul.” Sarah winks at Tony. Mr. Wilson laughs and follows her. “So, Paul, how's Darlene doing in Afghanistan?”

As their voices drain out, Tony helplessly looks to Steve. Steve bites his lip, amusement clear in his face.

“You left me for my mom,” he points out.

“I was trying to make a good impression!” Tony insists. 

Steve laughs and Wilson grunts. “Steve. What is he doing here?”

Tony clears his throat. “Steve took pity on me and picked me up from a gas station where I was about to get zits from hell from a boatload of candy.”

Steve frowns. “I wasn't pitying you.” Then says, “Plus, you forgot your M&Ms in the car.”

Tony frowns. “Damn it.”

Wilson sighs. “I’m — Just. If he does anything, I'm beating his ass, Steve.”

“Duly noted,” Steve responds cheekily.

Tony tsks. “I think Ms. Rogers would get to it before you, Wilson.”

Wilson actually cracks a smile at that. “Oh, no doubt. But I'd like to get a bit of a punch in there.”

Wilson's still removing his winter clothes when the next person, Scott Lang, comes in. He only arches an eyebrow while grinning at Tony before heading to the kitchen to scour for food. He's closely followed by Bruce Banner, who wearily greets Tony then starts questioning Wilson about something regarding birds, which Wilson eagerly jumps on the topic of, and they disappear in the living room where Barnes and Romanoff are most likely making out. By the following shrieks, they almost definitely were.

Steve groans. “Sam’s gonna make such a huge deal out of that. He'll call it live porn.”

Tony laughs a little. “No doubt Barnes will bask in that.”

Steve sends him a bright smile. “You’re already getting to know them.”

Tony blinks as Steve disappears into the living room. Was he? Wow.

How the hell is this happening again?

Sarah ends up taking Tony back into the kitchen, where he listens to both Sarah Rogers and Paul Wilson complain about their co-workers while helping to make a variety of homemade pudding for tomorrow. Paul gently eases him into the conversation as well, his eyes portraying that soft look that Tony's seen in Sam Wilson's eyes when he would talk to pretty much anyone that weren't dicks like Tony. (Kindness must be a hereditary trait; makes sense for Tony's case.) Sarah invites him in much more brassly, asking him probingly about his grades over anything else. Paul seemed to send her a knowing look, and, despite confusedly, Tony answered her. She looked approving before asking him about that butler of his — not his parents, not his friends, not why he's here instead of at a party — but about a topic Tony's shown comfort in confiding about priorly. 

Jarvis, Tony grins, he can talk on and on about.

After Tony recounted the story where poor Jarvis found Tony stuck to the ceiling at age six due to a series of unfortunate events, Sarah then hurriedly excused him. 

“You’ve been helping for two hours now,” Sarah berated him. Tony blinked.

“Hours?” he repeated. Paul smiled while Sarah rolled her eyes.

“ _Hours_ ,” she assured him. “Now go hang out with Stevie and his friends.”

Tony flushed. “Not sure that'd be better for me.”

Paul nudged him. “Go on, son. If any of them give you slack, tell us. But if Sam does, first just give him this look.”

Paul straightens his shoulders, tightens his jaw, flares his nostrils, and arches one eyebrow. It's terrifyingly intimidating.

Tony swallowed. “With no context?”

Paul nodded, relaxing back into his gentle, teddy-bear stance. “No context. He'll understand — his mom taught him well.”

“And if that trouble maker, Bucky Barnes is a problem for you, tell him Sarah will ban Steve from flying over,” Sarah told him. “Now, go on, shoo.”

Tony cracked one last smile before being pushed out of the kitchen. Where he ends up in the living room, in the heat of a conversation.

“ — none of your nosey butts’ business,” Steve is arguing. Tony tilts his head. Barnes sees him first, frowning.

“What did you do to Sarah and Paul?” he growls. Tony purses his lips.

“Do you really think that _I_ could get through those two?” Tony asks. “I wouldn't last a second.”

Bruce hides a smile behind his hand. Lang grins a little.

“He shows some shred of knowledge,” Bruce intones lightly.

Tony nods his appreciation. 

Romanoff stands, sizing him up. “Steve is being a bitch. Why are you here?”

Steve frowns. “I’m not being a — Never mind that. Tony, you don't have to tell them anything, okay?”

Tony gnaws his lip, but is saved by thunderous knocks. 

Sarah's voice carries from the kitchen. “Steve, get the door and tell Thor that he is not allowed in this kitchen until I say so!”

Steve jumps up and nods to Tony to come along with him. “C’mon.”

Tony hurriedly follows him.

When the door swings open, Thor Odinson’s there, sadness etched deep into his features.

Steve sighs softly. “He doesn't want to come?”

Thor nods. “I’ll be leaving earlier.”

Tony's lips part. Loki Odinson. 

As Thor walks in, he tilts his head at Tony. “You’re doing fairly, Stark?”

Tony nods rapidly. “Fantastic. You?”

Thor gives him a small beam. “Once I get some of Ms. Rogers's fudge into me.”

Steve chases after him, and Tony exhales. 

Okay. So he's not the only sad, rich kid here.

That's a relief.

— 

“Stevie,” Sarah commands.

Steve sighs. “No alcohol, no drugs, no sex, and no physical fighting because of what happened to Bucky.”

Tony blinks. “What happened to Barnes?”

Steve looks at him. “We don't talk about it.”

Sarah nods. “Okay, everyone heard the rules. I've got some gift-wrapping things to do and last-minute stuff, so I'm going over to Mrs. Meyer's.”

“Ma doesn't trust us with the gifts in the house, so she keeps them at the neighbor's,” Steve explains. 

“And for good reason,” Paul adds from behind Sarah, sliding his coat on.

Sam frowns. “Where are you going, Pops?”

Paul sighs. “We forgot some of the presents.”

Sam's mouth forms an 'o’. “That’s your job. I pack the tupperware and clothes when Mom's not here, and you pack the presents.”

“I know that, Sam,” Paul groans. “Doesn’t change that I forgot them. I'll be back in a while.”

“A while?” Romanoff questions. “You just live across the neighborhood.”

Paul reddens. “Sarah and Tony brought it to my attention that perhaps I chose a gift that wouldn't be... _appropriate_ for kids your guys' age. Now is the interrogation over?”

Tony bites back a laugh. Apparently, Darlene, Sam's mother, usually buys the presents, but since she's currently overseas the responsibility fell to Paul, who sorta botched it with all of the Legos he spent his money on. Tony tried to say that perhaps Steve really would like the Lord of the Rings set he got for him since Tony knows that Steve used to like the books back in seventh grade, but Sarah quickly shut the idea down with her uproar of laughter.

It seems that everyone who comes to the Rogers's home for Christmas is a mess. Tony tries not to be too hopeful that the rest of them will notice he's one, too.

“So, you kids will have the house alone for a moment or two,” Sarah says. Thor perks up.

“What about…?” he trails. Sarah turns stern.

“First, dinner,” she insists. “Some pizzas are coming in. And save at least five slices for me and Paul, _please_.”

Steve nods. “Sure, yeah, of course.”

Sarah sends him a look. “Tony’s in charge of the dessert.”

There's an outroar of protest. Tony jerks in surprise.

“I don't wanna hear it,” she reprimands. “Steve always digs into the ice cream early, Bucky can't keep his hands off of the fruit, Brucie is an angel but for some reason gnaws through the fudge, Sam cannot be trusted around any white chocolate, Natasha loves her chocolate pudding, and Thor and Scott... Do I even have to explain? I only trust Sharon with it but the poor girl is knee-deep in work and won't be coming until later. So, I trust my handy dandy kitchen assistant, Tony.”

Paul smiles at Tony. “I second the vote.”

One side of Tony's lips tilt in a helpless smile. Steve bites his lip to hide his own grin, despite his earlier contempt at being accused of ice cream robbery.

“Fine,” Barnes grumbles. “But there's a good reason as to why I eat all the plums!”

Romanoff arches an eyebrow, a fond expression dancing across her features. “Which is?”

Barnes pauses. Then looks at her, betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Nat, what the hell?”

Sarah laughs. “Okay, then. Tony, when they've all eaten, serve it any way you want. Stevie can help you, but don't let him near the ice cream.”

Steve loudly protests as Tony grins. “Yes, ma'am.”

—

After Sarah and Paul left, Wilson decidedly declared that they'd be watching Christmas movies. Banner was getting the pizza at the front door as everyone separated to get into comfy clothes. Tony desperately sought a moment to be alone in the bathroom.

“I’m at Steve Rogers’s house. I'm sitting alone in his bathroom. I have no idea what I'm doing,” Tony murmured to himself. He stared at himself in the mirror. “Just that I want to keep doing it.”

Well. Tony's spent nights with people he barely knows, most half-naked, before. This is hardly one of the worst situations.

Exhaling deeply, Tony shuffles out to the living room. Steve stands at his arrival. Barnes pulls his best friend down as Tony furrows his eyebrows at the blonde. Barnes rolls his eyes as Steve covers his face with his hands.

Shrugging it off, Tony tentatively chooses to sit down on the loveseat next to Banner, who smiles at him. Tony beams back. He could kiss Bruce Banner right now.

There's five boxes of pizza stacked on the table, including a cheese, supreme, triple meat, and two pepperonis. Thor's already eating a slice. He smiles at Tony through cheese. Tony huffs out a laugh.

Staring at her phone as she walks in, Romanoff announces, “Sharon says she'll be here in about half an hour or so, so we can start the movies. She also said that I get the first pick.”

Wilson groans. “I’m the one who thought of doing a marathon!”

Romanoff sends him a look. Smartly, he ceases to complain.

Once everyone's settled, Romanoff surprisingly queues up _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_. Unsurprisingly, there are protests.

“Boo,” Lang boos.

“We watch this every year,” Wilson complains.

Barnes huffs. “Tasha, doll, I love you, but no, not again, I can only take Jim Carrey's green face so many times per decade.”

Romanoff glares at him. “Yet you watch _The Mask_ how many times per year?” 

Barnes splutters before launching into an argument that the other guys jump into, as well. Steve looks at Tony, apologetically, but Tony just kind of is awed. The arguing doesn't seem new, yet all of them are so unashamedly supportive and protective of each other even with these disputes. If Tony told Ty off like Romanoff is doing to Wilson, Ty would've painted Tony's room bright pink and dip Tony's clothes in pink, as well. And Tony would've done the same. Yet they all just… Move on from it.

Steve stands. “We’re watching _How The Grinch_ _Stole Christmas_ because it's Nat's turn, okay? We can binge all of the ones you guys want tomorrow.”

Romanoff grins supremely. The guys grumble but they all comply. Tony smiles a bit. It seems like Steve's some sort of leader. It's cool.

Everyone's comfortably settled in and under blankets when Romanoff finally gets to start the movie. Steve turns off the lights, turns on the Christmas tree lights then squishes himself between Barnes and Wilson, who are both shoveling different types of pizza into their mouths. Next to Barnes is Romanoff, who lays with her feet dangling off the edge of the sofa as she eats the triple meat slices contently. Thor is sprawled over the floor with one of the pepperoni pizza boxes next to him and Lang has made some sort of nest for himself to sit in on the armchair while he devours slice after slice. Banner is still sitting cross-legged next to Tony on the loveseat while munching on some cheese pizza. Despite their original argument, they all seem quite enamored by the movie. 

The funny thing is, is that it comes delicately. Almost fragile.  
  
When the Grinch is eating a glass bottle on-screen, Lang snorts. “That looks like my pops.”   
  
Banner huffs a laugh, almost in agreement. Everyone else takes it without notice. It's... The normal.   
  
He wants to be in the Normal.   
  
Tony hesitates. Then,   
  
“Same,” he laughs.   
  
He feels what seems to be a million pairs of eyes on the side of his head. He's never felt so un-cool. He turns his head to stare at the room head-on, eyebrow arched.   
  
They all looked away as quickly as they looked over. It takes a moment, but Lang eventually says, “Sucks.”   
  
Tony doesn't say anything — he just nods.   
  
It's a while before Tony feels prompted to speak again, but in the time that elapses, he realizes that Steve Rogers's group of friends are probably one of the most nonchalantly self-deprecating group of teens on Earth.   
  
And that's saying something, right?   
  
But seriously, tiny Grinch comes on the screen, and he's awkwardly hiding behind a book with a bag on his head, and the first thing Thor Odinson thinks to say is, “If only I could do that in class.”   
  
And all Bucky Barnes does is throw a piece of pepperoni at him while making a loud noise of agreement. Romanoff thunks her head on his thigh to make him quiet.   
  
When the Grinch was reading the names of the citizens of Whoville and simultaneously screaming that he hates them? Wilson wheezes.   
  
“Nat — Nat, that's you in Chemistry,” he spits out breathlessly. Then Romanoff starts laughing, too, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.   
  
“Every — Everyone hates you in there,” Wilson barely manages to get out of his giggles. “And you hate everyone in there.”   
  
Romanoff laughs harder. “Shut up, okay, you're right there with me.”   
  
Steve simply huffs. “Guys, be quiet, this is emotional.”   
  
Tony's flabbergasted. And intrigued. And affronted.   
  
He wants to be self-deprecating.   
  
He jumps on his next chance.   
  
The Grinch is sitting in his house-cave thingy doing nothing and generally being alone while alluding to the thought of having no friends while he reads out his schedule of being alone when Tony laughs softly.   
  
“That was me when you found me today, Rogers.”   
  
Steve looks at him, momentarily surprised. Then grins wickedly.   
  
“Well, then I'm glad you came over instead of doing all of the things you had planned.”   
  
Tony huffs. “You should be. I gave up my one o'clock to three o'clock of crying in the shower for this.”   
  
Lang laughs, sounding surprised and amused. “That is literally the most relatable thing I've ever heard.”   
  
Tony grins to himself. This is fun.   
  
Though Tony hadn't noticed it before, he can feel the room lose tension in indescribable amounts the more and more he expresses just how much his life is... a giant cluster of what the fuck.   
  
It kinda goes completely relaxed. It's unbelievable. Tony doesn't think he's ever been this comfortable in a room with more than just him and Jarvis, Rhodey, or Pepper.   
  
Tony's sitting cross-legged on the couch with a slice of cheese when the Grinch's heart expands in his chest. He glances at Steve.   
  
Steve's smiling lightly at the screen, leaning against Wilson like the other guy is a part of the couch. Tony feels his chest tighten.   
  
He finally looks away, eyes catching onto someone else's.   
  
Sharon Carter's casually leaning against the entryway to the living room. She's staring at Tony with an arched eyebrow.   
  
Tony tames down the heat that starts to flood his cheeks. He shrugs nonchalantly before looking away not-so-casually.   
  
Fuck.   
  
“Shar!” Wilson shouts shortly after. “When'd you get here?”   
  
Carter sighs. “Oh, not so long ago, Sammy. Steve, go sit somewhere else.”   
  
“This is bullying,” he protests, but he stands and hugs Carter. “I'm glad you could make it.”   
  
“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” she murmurs back. “Now, seriously. Go sit somewhere else, I need to talk to Sam and Bucky.”   
  
“You suck,” Steve pouts. Banner nods him over, and Tony squishes into the arm of the couch. He smiles at Steve, helplessly. He hopes it's not too dorky.   
  
Steve just smiles softly back before heading over.   
  
Oh, good God. He's sitting next to Tony. He's sitting next to me. He's very nearly touching —   
  
Tony springs up. “Dessert?”   
  
There's an uproar of happy agreement. Wilson legitimately smiles at him.   
  
Okay. Getting better.   
  
Now Tony just needs to learn to deal with Steve Rogers being close to him.   
  
When Tony's attempting to take everything out of the freezer and making the last preparations, Romanoff comes into the kitchen.   
  
Tony looks at her from juggling some pies.   
  
She sighs. “You're a mess, Stark.”   
  
“An organized mess,” Tony corrects, grinning. “Wanna take the apple pie here, Miss Romanoff?”   
  
She takes three pies easily, balancing them. “Stark. We need to talk.”   
  
“About what?” Tony mutters, setting the pies down and taking the fudge out.   
  
Romanoff pokes him in the butt. He shoots up, grabbing his butt. Romanoff cracks a smile at his affronted look.   
  
“You're not as bad as you always tried to appear to be,” she tells him blatantly. “I knew that. Steve definitely knew that.”   
  
“'Definitely'?” Tony asks.   
  
Romanoff ignores him. “When Rumlow told us that you were the one who thought of those pranks? Pretty surprised, gotta admit.”   
  
Tony's jaw clenches. “The worst usually comes from one of the best.”   
  
Romanoff leans against the counter. “You're brave, Tony.”   
  
Tony blinks. Clears his throat. “That... Did not go as expected. Can I, uh, can I ask how you came to that conclusion?”   
  
Romanoff smiles. “Guess.”   
  
Tony flails. “No idea! I'm kind of a coward in every single aspect of the word. Like. There are some things you'd gasp at. I'm a coward.”   
  
Romanoff sighs. She slides her phone over to him.   
  
The screen is a video of someone's Snapchat story. It's Cross's, but it's Rumlow who's explaining that he heard that Tony would be leaving Timely. The caption reads, "Stark's leaving Marvel High lmao weak ass sissy".   
  
Tony doesn't even care.   
  
Tony laughs. “Always can count on friends to give you a shoutout.”   
  
Romanoff's lips flatten. “You really don't have any friends.” It's not a question.   
  
“No.” Tony rethinks that statement. “Well, I have a butler, his wife, a kind-of amazing super smart redhead, and an Air Force pilot, but. No. Not what you mean.”   
  
Romanoff stares at him until he starts shifting, uncomfortably. Then she takes the fudge from him.   
  
“Well, Tony, now you do,” she says, and she kisses him on the cheek before walking out of the kitchen.   
  
Tony gawks.   
  
She didn't even take some of the pies.   
  
When Tony's gone in and out of the kitchen multiple times, he finally gets to sit down. Everyone's staring at him. He frowns.   
  
“Did I forget something?” he asks.   
  
Bruce nudges him. “We can't eat anything until the person Sarah assigned to set dessert up takes the first bite.”   
  
“It's tradition,” Thor claims grandly.   
  
“Oh. Awesome,” Tony says. He grabs one of the homemade pudding cups. Through a mouthful, he says, “Dig in.”   
  
They're like baby mice. They feed on the food in a pile. It's as endearing as it's disturbing.   
  
There are only two physical fights (both involving Sharon, that woman is terrifying) but everyone ends up satisfied with their plates and bowls and hands (Lang). Barnes chooses to watch _Uncle Buck_ because he's kind of a dork underneath all of the grumpy attitudes. Tony still sits next to Steve, who does indeed devour a lot of the ice cream, at a concerning rate. When he catches Tony watching him, his cheeks flame red and he visibly tries to slow down. Tony silently imitates him wolfing it down. Steve turns a darker red and kicks him in the shin. Tony laughs, and Wilson throws half a rice crispy treat at him for "disturbing the movie".   
  
It's well into the movie, John Candy is threatening the asshole boyfriend with a drill or something, when Lang starts staring at him, unsubtly and curiously.   
  
Tony sighs. “No, you can't have the rest of my pie, Lang, I'm sorry.”   
  
Some of the others giggle, and Lang smiles a bit. “Got a legitimate question, okay?”   
  
Well. Tony's got nothing to lose.   
  
“Shoot.”   
  
“Did you seriously get punched again after Hodge gave you that black eye?” Lang blurts. “'Cause, honestly, even Steve doesn't get hit that often.”   
  
Bucky snorts. “Bet.”   
  
Steve ignores the discourse about him. “Honestly! He won't tell me what happened! That had to have hurt.”   
  
Now everyone's staring at him. Aw, fuck. Shit. Shit fuck shit.   
  
Sam seems to catch on. He clears his throat. “But you don't have to tell us anything if it — ”   
  
“No, no, I...” Tony huffs a little laugh. “It may be good to get this out. So, I'm guessing you've all seen Darren Cross's story.”   
  
There are some reluctant, almost guilty nods. Barnes clears his throat. “Kinda had a whole conversation about it.”   
  
Tony grins. “Well, it's true. I'm moving to California before the New Year even really starts. Going to college soon after that.”   
  
“How?” Lang asks. “You don't have the credits or — ”   
  
Tony scrunches his nose up. “There is literally no way to say this modestly, so. Just. I'm kind of a genius? Yeah. So. My dad pulled some strings, and... And I just took some tests. Easy.”   
  
Bruce smiles sadly. “I always knew you were hiding potential in class.”   
  
“How does this relate to your eye, though?” Barnes asks, sounding genuinely curious.   
  
“Moving from Timely kinda put everything into perspective. This... Being stupid was starting to look stupid. So that's why I punched out Hodge.” Tony exhales. “And, well... My dad didn't really like that I punched Gilmore Hodge. Or. He didn't really like my reasoning for punching Gilmore Hodge. So, uh.” He throws a fist at his own face. “A third of my face was numb for like a full day.”   
  
It's quiet. Tony sighs. “Such a downer, I know.”   
  
“How long has this been going on?” Steve murmurs. He's gripping the spoon in his hand really tight. Tony shrugs.   
  
“Doesn't matter much,” he says. “I won't have to deal with it when I'm in college.”   
  
“It does matter,” Thor assures suddenly and he's looking at Tony with sincerity and compelling strength. Tony smiles a bit.   
  
“Yeah. Just doesn't help much if I think about it,” he amends.   
  
Sam's frowning. “He's a — an — ”   
  
“Asshole who deserves to — ” Natasha curses in another language. Sharon nods fiercely.   
  
“Tony, if you want to, you can legally — ”   
  
Tony shakes his head. “It's really — No. I — This isn't... I'm fine. Really.”   
  
“This is all my fault,” Steve whispers. “Tony, I'm so, so sorry that you had to go through that just because of — ”   
  
“Steve,” Tony interrupts sternly. “Never apologize for being who you are. I _chose_ to punch Hodge.”   
  
“That doesn't mean you chose to get hit by your own father,” Steve frowns.   
  
Tony sighs. “It wasn't just — Look, he was... relatively fine with me punching Hodge for you, he just wasn't fine with the fact that... I had told him later that...”   
  
They all look at him expectantly.   
  
Damn.   
  
Tony pauses.   
  
Fuck it, he's leaving in a week, he's gonna leave the longest lasting impression he can.   
  
“That I was bisexual,” Tony finishes.   
  
It's dead silent.   
  
Tony smiles weakly.   
  
Sam awkwardly clears his throat. “Thank you for telling us?”   
  
Tony groans. “Do you seriously read 'what happens if my child comes out to me' articles or something?”   
  
“ _L'venok_ ,” Natasha calls to him. “I told you you were brave.”   
  
Tony's lips part. “I — Well… I mean — Really, I'm not — ”   
  
Steve nudges him. “You are.”   
  
Tony gazes at him until Steve goes red. Then Tony looks away, pink himself, and flails.   
  
“Can we just — ” He motions loosely. “I’ve never really got the Christmas thing, my family are atheists, so please — ”   
  
“You wanna learn about Jesus, Stark?” Barnes asks, but he has this sorta soft grin across his face that, if Tony chose to point it out, he was sure it would disappear.   
  
He doesn't. He just glares at Bucky, while everyone else gives them genuine but slightly nervous laughs.   
  
Sam sighs then. “You're way too much of a complex person now, you've lost all of your flatness. I can't believe I can't hate you anymore. Barnes, you're at the top of the hate list, again.”   
  
“Who else knows?” Scott asks curiously.   
  
“Dad, mom, my butler, Rhodey, probably Sarah Rogers because she's suspiciously all-knowing,” Tony lists. “And... All of you.”   
  
Sharon smiles softly at him. “Well, I'm honored, Mr. Stark.”   
  
Tony fails to hide a small smile at that one. Getting complimented by Sharon Carter has that effect.   
  
Steve nudges him. “I think you're officially in the Infected Group.”   
  
Tony's eyes snap to Steve's blue ones. Steve grins at him.   
  
Tony's stomach hums. He swallows.   
  
“Well, don't say that, Rogers, I have a reputation,” Tony huffs back, smiling a bit himself. Steve grins even more goofily at him. Tony's smile stretches uncontrollably.   
  
“Ahem.”   
  
Tony's eyes snap away from Steve's to the rest of the room. They're all staring at them, eyebrows arched. Tony clears his own throat.   
  
“Movie?”   
  
Bucky complies, not without a suspicious squint at Tony.

—

Tony has a mini panic attack while he's quietly sitting next to Steve. It only lasts a second though. He's pretty happy while it happens, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, long time no see :( i always first wanna apologize about my lack of replying to comments - i read each one, and they really do fuel this story!! i probably would've given up on it awhile ago without all of you commenters :)
> 
> also, i wanted to post this before christmas, as there's still another christmas chapter, though i'm not sure whether it'll be released by then. either way, i hope you enjoyed this one!! tony's growth has just skyrocketed, hasn't it? :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made it just in time!! just so you know, we've gotten through the angst and are now officially in the fluff chapters of this story!

When Sarah and Paul finally arrive, the dessert is nearing the bottoms of the containers, and there are exactly five slices of pizza (and half of a crust) left in the boxes. It's around six-thirty, and the Grinch movie just finished, because they all agreed on not letting Natasha rewind it back to where they stopped listening. Sam's next and he chooses _Elf_ , even though everyone else wanted _National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation_.

Tony doesn't really say much, but he says enough. It's just. Steve chose to stay sitting next to him through the rest of the _Grinch._ It was a lot to take in, okay?

Sarah teases every single one of them, individually, for an entire minute when she comes back. Paul just nudges Sam down to the floor so that he can sit on the couch. 

They eat the rest of the food while watching movies. It's kinda awesome. No one even gives Tony the stink eye anymore. Except Bucky, but Tony thinks their nemesis is just meant to be.

When nine hits, Sarah goes to bed in her room and Paul heads to Steve's with no discussion about it. Upon seeing Tony's slightly confused expression, Sam explains.

“We stay up later, but the old people go to bed at nine every time,” he rolls his eyes. “Steve’s about to get a boatload of blankets and pillows and we'll make a big nest while Sharon starts her Christmas movie. Then we dig into the Rogers' ice cream pile and eat it until the lights go out at midnight.”

Tony arches a brow. “Midnight?”

Sam raises one right back. “Santa will pass right over the house if we don't.”

Tony's lips tilt up.

When Steve does come in with enough blankets and pillows to cover Timely, Sharon is indeed scrolling through the proffered Christmas movies. Thor is absently pushing the furniture to the sides of the room while listening to Bruce go on and on about something science-y. Bucky and Scott are looking at their phones while continually pointing things out to each other on one another’s, while Sam and Natasha go to get the ice cream.

Steve looks over at Tony, underneath the pile of blankets and pillows, helpless.

“Help, please?”

Tony laughed before wandering over. “I don't know, Rogers, you look pretty comfy.” 

Steve flushes. “Tony, I swear — ”

Tony swipes most of the pillows from Steve. “Happy, dear?”

“Extremely,” Steve says dryly. Tony feels his heart spark in childish happiness at the banter.

They lay down a thick layer of blanket before piling the pillows in the middle, and draping the rest of the blankets on the couch for people to grab. Tony hums satisfactorily at the image it presents. Steve nods in agreement.

Scott finally looks away from his phone. “What’d you guys do to the living room? This is terrible.”

Both Steve and Tony throw a pillow at him.

Laying down is an entire other problem.

There's apparently no assigned sleeping order, but, either way, Tony knows his presence is a very new aspect to the holiday, and he has a sinking feeling that he'll be disturbing at least one pairing of usual sleep buddies. So he prompts sleeping on the couch.

But — unsurprisingly — that turns into a Big Deal.

Sam immediately directs him away from the couch. “Sharon sleeps on the couch since she's the oldest!”

Steve opens his mouth, but Sharon speaks over him. “Exactly!”

The room gets quiet. Tony thinks he's missing out on some type of secret language. Steve groans abruptly.

“No, no, no, no, _Tony_ ,” he flails, “you can sleep on the couch if you want to!”

Tony blinks. “I’m — I can sleep on the floor if…”

Natasha's sprung up and is basically forcing him to the floor one space away from the couch. “You’re gonna sleep here, Tony.”

Steve makes a noise of protest but is cut off by Natasha commanding placements. “Next to Tony is Bucky, then me, Sam, Bruce, Thor, and Scott on the loveseat.”

“I — ” Bucky starts to protest, but Natasha sends him a stern, meaningful look. He huffs before nodding in agreement, reluctantly.

Steve looks frustrated. “And where will I be sleeping?”

Sharon hugs Steve from behind. “Right next to me, on the floor. Oh, and will you look at that! By _Tony_ , too.”

Steve looks very sulky. Tony tries not to feel disappointed, knowing that he deserves the reaction.

“I can sleep next to someone else, instead — ” he tries.

“No, it's fine, Tony,” Steve hurries to reassure. Tony shrugs in agreement and feels relief come over him. The rest of the group are suspiciously smug. It's only slightly confusing because most of the things this group of people does are confusing.

A little while after, Tony excuses himself to call Jarvis and tell him about everything. Jarvis picks up the phone on the first ring.

“Sir? Is everything alright?” he asks immediately.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Yeah, of course, J, I'm sixteen, not six.”

Jarvis hmphs. “The state I left you in was hardly one of a great standard.”

Tony sighs. “Agreed. But, Jarvis…” He gives a cursory look around, before continuing, “I'm kind of on the top of the world right now.”

Jarvis is quiet. Then: “Illegal substances. I know about the alcohol, but I can't believe you — ”

Tony chokes. “What? _No_! No, no, no, no, no! God, J — ”

“Well, then what has made you 'on top of the world’, Master Tony?” Jarvis asks sassily.

Tony grins. “I’m at Steve Rogers's house right now.”

Jarvis is quiet for a long moment. “Steve Rogers... meaning the boy that you've been enamored with for nearly half a decade now?”

Tony flushes. “That’s the one,” he mutters.

Jarvis exhales. “And how on Earth did you find yourself there?”

Tony uselessly shrugs. “Extremely lucky? Anyway, his friends are all here, and we all kind of… bonded? And Steve's mom and Sam Wilson's dad are my new best friends, basically. It's really weird, but also really…”

“Pleasant,” Jarvis fills in, tone indescribable. Tony sighs.

“Yeah. Pretty much. So? This is me asking you if I can stay over at my stranger friend's house, mom.”

“Though I am not your mother, and therefore not in place to make this decision for you,” Jarvis starts, “I believe it would be a great experience and long-lasting memory for you to spend this Christmas at the Rogers' household.”

Tony smiles. “Is that your approval of my depraved fraternization with Steve Rogers?”

“Merry Christmas and goodnight, sir.”

“See ya, J.”

After that is a blur of ice cream and more Christmas movies. Before anyone really realizes it, Sam's phone starts blaring _Santa Claus Is Coming to Town_ and they see that it's fifteen until midnight.

Scott whines. “I always have to wait until Christmas day to get to watch my movie, it's unfair!”

Sam grumbles. “Well, Tony gets first pick tomorrow.”

Scott whines further. Bruce shoves a pillow at his face.

Thor's already lightly snoring with a large arm draped across Bruce's thigh, Bucky has been leaning against Natasha, suspiciously quiet, for a while now, and Sharon's been dozing in and out up on the couch. 

Steve stands from his place next to Tony, yawning. “You know the rules, people. Phones off and make sure you've peed. No getting up until Santa's squeezed himself down the chimney.”

He shuts the lights off, and everyone settles deep under the blankets. Tony has a bit of a reflection.

He can't remember the last time he actually had the stereotypical sleepover, where everyone piles on the floor, and watches movies together, and talks about everything and anything. He can't remember ever being so comfortable at one. He can't remember the last time he even _dreamed_ of having one with Steve Rogers. Never mind that, he can, it was last week —

“Hey.”

Tony looks over, and feels his heart tighten at the blue eyes that peer at him, concerned, in the dark.

Steve nudges him lightly. “You okay?” he whispers.

Tony nods. “Tired.”

Steve smiles softly. “Then sleep.”

Tony can't help but smile back. Steve turns that same pink again, then hurriedly turns around and snuggles under the blankets.

Tony stares at the ceiling.

Thing is — he can't.

Sleep, that is. He can't possibly just sit here and… Bide his time while his wallet sits in Steve's car, just waiting to be used to buy all of these extremely sweet people gifts. 

So, yes, he's tired. But first, he needs to get presents.

It takes a while but when the room is near dead silent, Tony quietly sits up. He slides out from under the blankets.

He gives one last cursory glance around the room, remembering everyone he has to get a present for, and what they'd most likely want. 

Quietly, he shoves his feet in his shoes, his arms in his jacket, and heads out into the cold.

—

He's taking his phone out to try and call an Uber or something when he hears the door quietly open, and:

“Tony?”

Tony spun on his heels.

Steve, wrapped in a blanket, was staring at Tony from the doorway. He was tired, but alert. He looked almost anxious.

Tony frowns. “Steve? What are you doing? Go back to sleep.”

Steve frowns back. “Well, what are you doing?”

Tony sighs. “I… Fine, okay, I wanted it to be a surprise, but whatever. I'm — I'm gonna get some gifts really quick, okay?”   
  
Steve blinks, groggily. Then he covers his face with his hands, shaking his head back and forth. 

“Tony,” he says patiently. “No store in all of Timely is opened right now.”

Tony opens his mouth. Closes it. He slumps.

Steve's expression softens. “C’mon, Tony. Let's go in, everyone will understand. Honestly, it's… it's really… uh… admirable? Admirable. That you… That you even wanted to — ”

But an idea has struck Tony. 

“ _Ah-ha_!” he cheers. Then slaps his hand over his mouth in embarrassment. Steve's lips purse in concealed laughter.

“Yes, Tony?”

Tony turns red, but grins. “I don't need a store, Mr. Rogers. I need… Go back inside, I have to go somewhere.”

Steve frowns. “Where?”

Tony huffs, a tad too affectionately. “ _Somewhere_ , nosey-pants. Just go in, I'll be back in an hour or two, tops.”

Steve frowns harder. “What, are you gonna take an Uber? At this time of night? In Timely?”

Tony doesn't say anything. 

Steve sighs, a little smile on his lips. “Just wait here a second, I'll be right back out and we can drive wherever you need to go.”

“Steve, no,” Tony protests. “You need to sleep.”

Steve gives him a look. “You want to get them presents. I want to see this mystery place.”

Tony shakes his head. “No. It's fine, I can get them tomorrow — ”

Steve tsks. “And disappoint them in the morning?”

Tony hmphs. “Seriously, Rogers?”

Steve shrugs. “Let me go with you? Please?”

And with _those_ blue eyes?

—

Steve's yawning in the passenger seat, snug in a blanket, all while grinning smugly.

It's ridiculously adorable considering that he's so _big_ now.

Tony can't find it in himself to be tired, but he never really is when an idea takes over his mind. He can stay awake for hours on end working on something.

Steve hums. “Can you please turn on the Christmas music?”

Tony complies, and the beginning of _Do They Know It’s Christmas?_ floods Steve's car. Steve smiles softly, eyes gently shut. 

He's gorgeous.

Tony clears his throat. “Y’know — Not a lot of people can out-stubborn me, Rogers.”

Steve's smile turns wicked, his eyelids flying open, and Tony's enamored. 

“Oh?” Steve snickers. “Neither can many with me.”

Tony arches an eyebrow. “That’s surprising,” he drawls.

“I like to keep people on their toes,” Steve shoots back. Tony tsked.

“Constantly,” he confirms. Steve laughs. 

Tony's heartbeat takes over. The friendly banter is even worse than silence. He can't deal with Steve Rogers's adorableness.

When the quietness floods in again, Tony’s thoughts go absent, falling into the hum of driving. It's not until Steve nudges him that he realizes it.

“Sing louder,” Steve murmurs, an excited look dancing across his features.

Tony burns a deep red. “I — No, no, definitely not, that is the second time you've caught me singing today and this is just — peak humiliating.”

Steve pokes Tony harder. “Aw, c'mon, Tony, this time it's just a Christmas song, not a teenage girl bemoaning the loss of her boyfriend.”

Tony's cheeks, if possible, burn hotter. Good God, Steve heard what he was singing at the gas station.

Tony adamantly shakes his head. “Look, the song is ending, I'm not gonna just jump — ”

Then the first notes of Mariah Carey's _All I Want For Christmas_ starts.

Steve beams. Tony laughs through a groan.

“ _I_ — ” Steve carries the note horrifically. Tony laughs harder.

“ _Don’t want a lot for Christmas_ ,” Steve continues — still in that terrible tone that Tony isn't sure is his actual singing voice or not — sitting up straighter.

“ _There is just one thing I need_.” Steve looks at Tony. Tony gets the message.

“ _I don't care about the presents,_ ” Tony mutters, and Steve smiles so beautifully, its radiancy rivals everything bright.

“ _Underneath the Christmas tree_ ,” Steve hums.

“Oh, God— _I just want you for my own_.”

“ _More than you could ever know_!”

Tony exaggeratedly rolls his eyes before singing, “ _Make my wish come true_ — ”

Steve laughs. “ _All I want for Christmas…_ ”

“ _Is you_ ,” Tony finishes, and they let the song carry on.

Tony glances at Steve once before looking back at the road. Steve's cheeks are pinker than they were before. Tony thinks his own are, too.

—

When he finally reaches his destination, he quietly tries to pull into the lot. Steve still stirs and wakes up when the car is parked.

Tony sighs. “You stay here, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Steve frowns. “Are these storage units?”

Tony shoots him a look. “There’s no chance in hell that you’re gonna stay in the car, is there?”

Steve shoots him a look back.

Tony leads Steve to his unit, lightly shivering in the cold. His unit is tucked deep in the lot, one of the units that are three times the size as the normal ones. Steve’s eyes widen at the sight of it.

“You’re… You’re not gonna get anyone cars, right?” he asks uncertainly.

Tony guts out a laugh, but doesn’t answer.

Digging through his wallet, Tony receives his ID card. Keying in the code (written on the back of his ID because he’s a genius but he can’t be damned to _actually_ remember a 4-letter code) he swipes his ID over the scanner and gives the storage pull-up door a tug.

Steve gapes. Tony laughs, nervously. “Let’s go in?”

Steve follows, jaw still unhinged.

The walls are shelved with his inventions. Despite being born into Stark Arms or even "Stark Industries", Tony has always known his mind belongs to something more than weapons. He feels more born to innovation.

Steve, for some reason, gravitates to the robot trash pile. DUM-E, the AI bot that Tony still hasn’t successfully finished, is what Steve reverently runs his fingers over — even with the opposite corner displaying an assortment of phones, tablets, and laptops that top any product the current market can present. Tony hmphs.

Steve looks up at him, eyes wide. “Can it move?”

Tony grumpily trudges over. “Well — Yeah, but it can’t do much else except that and play fetch.”

Steve’s eyebrows skyrocket. “It can play fetch?”

Tony shrugs. “Compared to other robots running on AI, DUM-E really isn’t that impressive. My college dissertation will need to be on something a bit more advanced.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. Then he brightens. “Can I see him in action?”

“It,” Tony corrects, but complies by flipping open one of the waiting StarkTops, fingers flying to start up DUM-E.

Steve waits, patiently, fingers still hovering over DUM-E but eyes roving the walls. 

“What are those?” he asks curiously to Tony's growing collection of StarkPhones.

Tony grins. “Those are going to be the pain in Apple's side one day.”

Steve's eyebrows raise. “I thought Stark Arms dealt with weapons?”

“It's Stark _Industries_ now, remember?” Tony rolls his eyes. “Anyways, I honestly despise the weapons business and I'm not an enormous fan of the current military climate — or any military climate ever. I'd rather be initiating innovation in a different type of technology.”

Steve smiles, softly. “That's awesome, Tony.”

Tony gets stuck on Rogers's blue eyes for a long moment. He feels like he's thirteen again, outside of Sarah Rogers's office, with an enormous crush on the skinny blonde kid.

Tony looks away, clearing his throat.

DUM-E’s arm, abruptly, perks up. Steve makes a surprised noise, and, in response, DUM-E chirps back, scooting back into the wall — Tony scrunches up his nose. “DUM-E. Stop being a dummy. This is Steve.”

Steve waves, a shy thing that makes Tony almost swoon, and DUM-E extends its arm hesitantly. Steve touches its claw lightly before a grin lit up his face and DUM-E chirped louder. They shook hands.

“Tony, he’s _wonderful_!” Steve laughs. “He’s brilliant! _You’re_ brilliant!”

Tony flushes bright red. “I’m really not… He’s supposed to be able to — ”

“We’re all supposed to be doing something,” Steve says, almost absentmindedly, “that doesn’t take away from our own wonderful, does it?”

Tony stares at Steve, as the other boy giggles as DUM-E circles him excitedly. Tony clears his throat. “Suppose not.”

Steve looked up at him, then. “Can I play fetch with him while you get ridiculously amazing presents for my family?”

Tony grins. “There should be a ball in the crate behind you.”

Steve happily went to the crate, chattering to DUM-E as if the bot was Barnes, and then threw the ball lightly to the corner with the least fragile items. DUM-E whirs and makes vaguely happy-sounding noises before bounding after the ball and rushing back to Steve. Steve claps, and throws it again like the game could never get old.

Tony, slightly amazed and overwhelmingly confused as he always is with Steve, starts looking through the better tech he has on hand for gift ideas. His mind fires off, making connections with the stories he collected from the evening, and he gets everything together easily enough — he then starts the gruesome process of making sure everything is perfect because nothing is worse than a broken present.

He throws a glance over his shoulder, his eyes widen enormously, and he shoves his eyes back to his screen. “Uh, Steve? Whatcha doing back there?” _Aside from inspiring a problem in my pants?_

There’s a light _umph_ sound, before Steve says, “Pull-up bar. What else was I supposed to do?”

DUM-E makes a chirping noise in agreement.

Tony nods, still not looking back, though the remark sparks a smile on his face. “Right-o, captain. I forgot you had muscles as big as my head now.” When Steve doesn’t say anything in response, Tony worriedly looks behind him. “Steve?”

The boy in question’s cheeks are flushed pink. “C-Captain?”

Tony’s eyebrows furrow, before he realizes. “Oh. Stupid nickname?”

Steve hurriedly shakes his head. “No, not at all. I just… Where’d you get it from?”

Tony shrugs, looking back at the lines of code in front of him. “Top of my head.”

“Tony,” Steve says, before clearing his throat. “Tony. Do you remember the Halloween party? M’Baku Jabari’s?”

Tony’s fingers freeze over his keyboard. He straightens, turning again. “I… Yeah.”

Steve’s face screwed up. “How much of it?”

Tony’s own face reacted in kind. “Enough to know that I came off as a total douchebag.”

Steve blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I probably said a bunch of stupid shit, used you as a human crutch, and then — fell asleep on you, on our way home,” his face felt hot red, “I’m so sorry about that. And then I didn’t even apologize or say thanks the next time we saw each other.”

“Tony, you didn’t — You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve protests. “I was having a terrible night before I bumped into you on the sidewalk. You sharing the M&M’s…”

“Was entertaining enough to make you forget about it?” Tony fills.

Steve sends him an exasperated look. “No. It made my night a lot better.”

Tony blinks. “Oh.”

Steve flushes. “And you were my ride home. Plus you gave me the ‘captain’ nickname that Scott’s been calling me.”

Tony smiles weakly. “I said that?”

“You also mentioned my size then,” Steve says, grinning. “You said that you wanted to feed me or something when I was skinny.”

Tony shoves his face in his hands. “Oh, God.”

Steve laughs. “And that, even if I was still small, I’d still look…” His expression turns then, into something almost nervous. “I’d still look wonderful.”

Tony’s stomach twisted itself over and over until he was finally able to choke out, “I’m sorry about that.” _But it’s entirely true, you’ve always been the most gorgeous person in any given room, Steve._

“It wasn’t bad to hear,” Steve says quietly. “It was sweet, actually.”

Tony’s head snaps up, and their eyes meet. An eternity elapses.

“Well,” Tony says eventually, spinning on his feet. Steve doesn’t reply.

DUM-E eggs Steve into another game of fetch, and Tony finishes up his work as quickly as possible — which still must’ve been over an hour and a half. Not that Steve showed that at all. He remained intrigued and curious about every single little thing in the unit, going over each failure and success with DUM-E and the occasional question to Tony. The scene, whenever he turned to see it, made Tony’s heart squeeze.

Eventually, he stretches his fingers and sighs, catching Steve’s attention from where he was poking a holographic globe. Tony smiles, lazily, and Steve straightens, eyes focused entirely on Tony. “What is it?”

“I’ve collected the gifts,” Tony declares, “now I just need to pack them up in my red sack.”

Steve mournfully rubs DUM-E’s claw, staring morosely at the bot’s clunky body. DUM-E made a dejected chirp in reply.

Tony clears his throat. “I haven’t, however, chosen your gift.” He smiles softly. “Though I think I see one thing that you’ve favored.”

Steve looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, before realization dawns. “DUM-E? No, Tony, I couldn’t — ”

“He obviously likes you,” Tony interjects, too tired to correct his own mispronoun. “You can have this unit once I’m in California, visit it every month or so. It’ll be pretty much empty by then.”

“That’s just the thing,” Steve argues. “He’d be here alone, most the time — ”

“He’s a robot, we can power him down — ”

“ — and you would be alone, starting off in California,” Steve finishes. He frowns, a tad upset. “You’ll need all the friends you can get, right? Starting over, like this.”

A silence rings after that, as Tony wraps his mind around Steve’s enormous heart. A fruitless effort.

“Then what am I supposed to gift you?” he asks, rather than directly responding to Steve’s proclamation.

“I don’t need anything,” Steve insists. He looks around the unit, eyes roaming. “This… Seeing all of this is enough. More than.”

Tony opens his mouth to argue, before an idea dings somewhere in his mind. Shaking his head, he smiles sweetly. “Okay, Steve.”

Steve eyes him. “This isn’t the end of this, is it?”

“Not at all,” Tony says cheerfully.

Steve shut his eyes as Tony collects the presents before they trekked to the door. Before they exited, Steve stopped Tony by the wrist. His expression was a mixture of concern and anxiety. 

“What is it?” Tony asks.

“Tony,” Steve says, “you don’t have to… You don’t have to give us gifts because of anything that happened in the past. I can tell you right now that all of us understand, now. Except maybe Bucky, but he just likes to be contrary.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “We don’t need impressive presents to…”

“Like me?” Tony smiles sadly. Steve looks away, and nods. Tony stays silent for a moment, before saying, “I know. You’re all very… good. You’re very decent people. And I know that I don’t need to. But, Steve, please believe me when I tell you that, even though I’ll probably always have some shred of guilt, I also just always gift these types of things. I don’t — To me, this isn’t anything big. I know that sounds so stupid, but I don’t mean to try to — manipulate you all into liking me, or anything — ”

“I know you aren’t,” Steve says quickly. His eyes are still trained to the side. “So this is just because you want to gift us things?”

Tony nods, exaggeratedly. “What use are things if they aren’t going to be used?” he says, lifting the box in his hands shortly.

Steve looks at him, then, and smiles lightly. “They’re all gonna hate you because they weren’t able to get anything for you in return. I’m kind of hating you right now.”

Tony had imagined many different situations in which Steve Rogers said he hated him throughout the years — not once did he think it would be said in a teasing manner with a soft glimmer to his eyes.

“Well,” he says, opening the door, “ _that_ , I’m used to.”

—

Steve falls asleep on the drive back. 

Christmas music hums through the car, snow still gently falling against the windshield glass, as the unmistakable air of the holidays flitted through the air. Lights strung high on houses added to the feeling, and Tony felt — _happy_. Happy that it was the holidays, for the first time since he was seven years old and his parents decided that he old enough to open presents by himself.

He parks at the Rogers’ house, and nudges Steve awake. Bright blue eyes peek open slowly. Tony smiles, and that curious pink floods the other’s cheeks.

“We’re home,” Tony tells him, quietly. Steve just gives a short nod, blinking awake.

They trudge silently inside, and Tony makes short work of placing the presents under the tree. Steve sleepily watches him, smiling as he settles into the blankets. Tony follows him under the covers and sighs a breath of relief, his mind settling into a state of rest as his mission is completed.

His eyes catch onto Steve’s, and there’s still a soft smile on his lips. Uncontrollably, Tony’s eyes settle on his pink lips for a lingering moment. Catching himself, his eyes fly back up to Steve’s, whose pupils are blown wide.

There’s a beat, then, that keeps them frozen in place. Tony’s heart pounds, and he could swear that Steve’s was doing the same. It lasts long enough that he lets his eyes fall back down, right as Steve’s tongue nervously wets his lips. 

_Fuck it_ , Tony thinks, and he starts to lean in when there’s a loud shifting noise — Sharon is turning on the couch above them, most likely to face their side.

It’s a splash of cold water, and Tony swiftly turns on his side, facing away from Steve, and hears Steve do the same.

 _Idiot_ , Tony scorns himself. _Idiot, idiot, idiot —_

He almost ruined the most beautiful thing he’s ever had.

 _Idiot_. The thought chases him to sleep.

“IT’S CHRISTMAS!”

Not even an hour could have passed.

Tony’s eyes creak open, reluctant and heavy. 

“IT’S CHRISTMAS! YOU BIG ASSHOLES, IT’S CHRISTMAS!”

Tony feels slightly tempted to throw a pillow at where Barnes is jumping next to him, but can’t find the energy to move. Instead, he hears Sharon tackle the boy down, and Barnes getting tortured by, what sounds like, Sharon, Sam, and Natasha. Thor’s snoring continues peacefully vibrating the entire damn room, and, twisting, Tony sees Bruce is standing and stretching, while Scott stares out at the window’s display of snow with childish happiness. Tony’s eyes wander back to directly in front of him, where Steve’s own eyelids are fluttering open. Immediately, Tony gives a sheepish grin; Steve just grins back, with a helpless look in his eyes, before sitting up, stretching his built arms above his head and yawning wide. Flushing, Tony shoves his face back into his pillow.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Steve orders. “Everyone settle down until Ma — ”

“I’m right here, Stevie,” Sarah interrupts, all cuddled up in a robe and her pajamas and a cup of coffee, and it fits the parent-on-Christmas-morning bill so perfectly that Tony aches for a life that he didn’t have. Steve grins at his mother. “Once Paul comes in, we’ll start opening.”

Barnes finally disentangles himself from the wrestling pile, and his eyes fly to under the tree. “Oh my fuck,” he says, “guys. Santa actually fucking came.”

“What?” Scott demands, twisting over the edge of the loveseat to see the tree. 

The whole group stares at the pile of unknown presents under the tree. Tony sends one glance to Steve, who has mastered the surprised expression on his face.

“DAD!” Sam screeches. “HURRY UP!”

—

Paul comes in moments later, and it’s suddenly a flurry of movement. “We do Secret Santa,” Steve explains with a smile. They both settle into sitting with their backs against the couch. “Everyone’s looking for the gift with their name on it, and then we guess who got us.” He leans in conspiratorially. “I got Sam this year.”

“Steve, here’s yours!” 

Steve catches a box, and looks up at Tony. “I’m sorry that…”

“Steve,” Tony interrupts, exasperated, “I kind of totally imposed, remember? It’s okay.”

Steve smiles softly, before standing and preventing the others from grabbing Tony’s presents. Tony feels a nudge to his shoulder, and Paul grins down at him. “Cocoa?”

Tony accepts the mug with a smile. 

“Stark!” Tony looks over. Barnes throws a box at him. “Yours.”

Tony looks down at the present in surprise, before looking back up at Sarah and Paul. They pointedly Don’t Look at him, and he grins widely. 

“Everyone calm down!” Sharon yells. “It’s opening time!”

A tornado of wrapping paper fills up the room. Tony tenderly tears away the corners of his. Inside, a soft, red knit sweater is wrapped around a box of Sarah’s fudge. Scott gasps from next to him.

“You asshole!” he accuses. “You got a Paul Wilson knitted sweater! Everyone! Tony got a Paul Wilson knitted sweater!”

Multiple items are thrown at him; Sarah gives one stern order, and all of them go back to opening their presents and looking innocent. Paul just smiles indulgently at Tony. “We were on short notice,” he explains. “I hope it isn’t…”

“It’s great,” Tony says immediately. “It’s amazing. It’s soft, and — and these are delicious.” He swallows. “Thank you. So much.”

Sarah leans over to him and brushes a strand of hair back from his face. She smiles gently at him, his cheek in the palm of her hand. “Of course, Tony.”

As they start guessing loudly and debating about their presents, Tony slips from the room. Sending a quick text to Jarvis, not wanting to disturb his and Anna’s morning, he dials a familiar number.

“Tony,” a warm voice fills his ears. “Merry Christmas, man.”

Tony grins. “Rhodey-bear. Merry Christmas.”

“How are you? Why weren’t you answering my calls? Where are you? Is Jarvis around?” Comes the barge of questions. “Let me talk to him, we need to — ”

Tony huffs. “Even if he was around, I wouldn’t let you tattle to him about me.”

“So he isn’t around?”

“He’s at his home with Anna,” Tony informs. “And I’m at Steve Rogers’s.”

Rhodey’s quiet. Then: “Can you say that again, Tones?”

Tony explains the whole thing, happily, and, in an extra-hushed tone, recounts his night with Steve, which Rhodey uncharacteristically giggles at — Tony vows to tease him forever, but Rhodey just says, “I don’t even care, man! Kiss him the next time you see him!”

“Rhodey!” Tony gapes, his face burning hot.

“Do it! Actually, why are you even speaking to me? Go talk to Rogers and all of them!”

Tony gets hung up on — he’s laughing too hard to even care. After sending a quick Snapchat of him giving a thumbs up and a ‘happy holidays’ to Pepper, Tony shrugs into the sweater that Paul knit and dodges out of the bathroom.

“This had to have been from Steve,” Sam’s declaring, as he carefully cradles a notebook with a beautiful painting of wings on the cover. Steve grins, and Sam smiles back. “Thanks, Steve.”

Tony settles on the couch, feeling extra warm as he looks out the window to the wintery scene — Paul’s knitwork is immaculate. Bruce clears his throat. “Now can we open the mysterious ones?”

“Okay, but where the hell did they come from?” Scott asks.

“Mr. Kringle,” Thor says through a mouthful of pop-tarts. He has a Pop-Tart shirt on that he didn’t have before, and Tony momentarily mourns missing _that_ scene.

Sharon’s scanning the pile. “None of them have the _From_ sections filled.”

Natasha is staring at Tony. Tony avoids looking back, picking up his fudge box and cooling cup of cocoa.

Sam snatches the gifts up, and starts distributing. “Who cares? Let’s open them!”

Tony feels an itching feeling creep up his hands from where he watches. Oh, fucking hell. What if they don’t like them? What if they all simultaneously decide to trash them, and then kick Tony out in the snow? What if — Oh, god, what if Steve thinks his gift is ridiculous, and looks at Tony, like he’s seeing him for real, all of the nasty parts of him —

A warm hand envelops his own, and squeezes. Tony looks up. Steve smiles, uncertain, though his grip is so reassuring. _It’ll be okay._

Tony exhales.

“Oh my god,” Scott squeaks.

Tony looks over at him, his nerves wracking up.

“Santa got me a subscription to free StarkCAD,” Scott squeaks. “Fuck AutoCAD, this shit is going to — AH!”

Bruce stares at Tony. “Tickets to New York City. For the World Science Festival.”

“You got the engineering and science geeks perfectly,” Steve murmurs, though his eyes are wide as he stares at Scott’s and Bruce’s gifts.

Thor jumps up. “A solar-paneled toaster!” Tony feels particularly vindicated with that excitement.

Sharon reverently runs her fingers over her device, which is already started up. “For studying.”

“Unofficially called a StarkStudy,” Tony says quietly. “For college students.” Sharon looks like she wants to cry.

“Then mine’s called a StarkWatch, right?” Sam cheers loudly. He’s already gotten the watch next to his phone, syncing up. “God, Stark, I could kiss you!”

Paul looks up at Tony from his StarkTop. “Tony, I couldn’t possibly… I mean — ” 

“Teachers need laptops,” Tony argues. “And nurses need them, too.”

  
“And nurses need them, too!” Sarah argrees through a laugh. “Oh, Tony, I would refuse if I thought you’d take it back.” Tony beams. “Thank you so much for this.”

Barnes and Natasha have seemingly already started up the StarkPorts. Barnes runs across the house, a stupid smile filling up Natasha’s screen. “Holy cow, Stark, I’m in love with you!”

“I actually chose them so that you two could remain hopelessly in love,” Tony says dryly.

Natasha smiles back at him. “Thank you, Mr. Kringle.”

Sharon looks toward Steve, for a second. “What’s yours, Steve?”

Steve’s holding his small card-shaped gift carefully, and his eyes fly to Tony, uncertain. Tony just smiles, though his own anxiety is clawing up his throat.

Unwrapping it gently, Steve lets the two cards slide out of their pouch. Tony twitches. “Turns out that gas station was still open. I got that gift card when you were asleep. The other is an ID card for the unit we went to, last night. It’ll be cleared out by New Year’s, and I was thinking that you could fill the place up as an art studio. I mean, the unit’s my property, so it’d just go to waste otherwise — _oof_ , okay.”

Steve’s hugging him tightly. Tony, hesitantly, lets his arms wrap around him, before tucking his face into his shoulder. Steve’s arms encompass him neatly, his scent clean and Steve, and his hair tickles Tony’s forehead, and it’s — _perfection_. Tony exhales shakily.

“HUG TIME!”

His back bends in as the others jump onto the both of them in a dog pile. Steve laughs into his neck, and Tony is helpless to do anything but laugh back.

—

The dining room is buzzing with activity. Tony got first shower, and he sits back and watches as everyone takes their turn while Sarah and Paul make breakfast and everyone chatters and texts others and beam at Tony with their gifts. Tony’s own phone buzzes, and he glances at it.

  
**STONE**  
December 25

have a queery christmas  
 _sent 9:00AM_

  
Realization hits Tony in the stomach. 

He isn’t supposed to be here.

Once Sarah calls breakfast, Tony lingers in the dining room archway. Sharon frowns at him. “Tony?”

Steve’s eyes snap up to him. Tony looks away.

“I…” He inhales slowly. “I had a really… really awesome time. Really. But I have to go now.”

“What?” Scott gapes.

Tony’s layers a twisted smile on his face. “I’m leaving by New Year’s, and I’ve still got some strings to tie up.” Like sitting in the bathtub for the next five days. “It’s been really awesome, guys.”

“Tony,” Sarah says, her eyes wide and heartbroken, “can’t you stay for breakfast?”

Tony’s stomach caves in before he says, certainly, “No. I’m sorry. Thank you, again. Merry Christmas.”

Tony leaves the room before anyone can say more, snatching up his few things and rushing to the door.

It’s snowing again, lightly. Tony’s throat throbs, and his eyes are stinging, but he stomps through the build-up of snow, a single-minded determination to get down the street and hide out in a store to call Jarvis. 

“Tony!”

Tony swallows, wants to pretend that he didn’t hear him, but he couldn’t bear hurting him more than he’s already done. He stops next to the mailbox and turns.

Steve Rogers. In slippers, a white shirt, and sweat pants with rainbow ankles. _Steve Rogers_.

“Tony,” he repeats, slowly, and he descends the stairs.

Tony waits, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Steve?”

Steve exhales a puff of cold air. His blonde hair dampens from the snow, his skin flushed pink, and his hands are shaking. His eyes search Tony’s own, aimlessly, and Tony looks down.

“Steve, you should go inside, it’s cold. Jarvis is already on his way to pick me up — ”

“Tony,” Steve says.

Tony shuts up.

Steve looks away, before visibly steeling himself to meet Tony head-on. 

“When I first saw you, I thought,” Steve swallows, eyes still frantic, “I thought that you were just — just…”

Tony’s throat aches. He wants to turn; leave. Never hear what Steve thinks he has to tell his schoolyard tormentor before he walks out on his life.

Steve finally regains himself. “I thought that you were _everything_.”

Tony’s mouth parts.

Steve’s breathing escalates, but he’s going now, and there’s no going back. “I thought — I thought you were gorgeous, and stunning, and you seemed funny, and so _cool_.” He laughs, the noise wet. “At lunch, you were playing soccer, and you were fast, and strong, and I just thought, _wow_. I thought, this is what Ma teases me about, because I was — so gone on you, the very first day I was here. And even after I noticed that you hung out with — with Stone, and Rumlow, and all of them — I wanted to stop liking you. So bad. I felt angry at myself, because I couldn’t help but keep staring, hoping, but it never lasted long because you kept— you kept smiling at me, and you helped me in math all the time, and you made fun of Rumlow when he started to make fun of me not being able to do pull-ups, and you always dropped a dollar in the charity funds that we’d have, and I just… I _knew_. I _knew_ there was more to you.

“And when I posted that — that stupid post,” he breathed out, “when I told everyone the one thing that I thought you might hate me for, and you still kept smiling at me, I was so relieved. I thought you knew that I was talking about you in my caption, and I felt so stupid, but so happy that you didn’t mind, when everyone else was… And then the prank happened, and — ” Steve finally met his gaze, eyes glistening. “I hated you.”

Tony was shaking, and not from the cold. He wiped a hand across his face, through his hair, and it came back wet.

“I did,” Steve says, like he’s trying to convince someone. “I swear to God, I did. But it never lasts. Even before you punched Hodge, I didn’t hate you.” He laughs, loud and abrupt. “Who am I trying to kid, I never did, even if it felt like it.”

Tony tries to say something, but words are beyond him. Steve has more to say, anyway.

  
“And yesterday,” he whispered, “I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t… At my mom’s office, all of those times we met in the library, Halloween — it was all just teasing me, keeping me going, because yesterday and last night, I got the full Tony Stark experience.” Steve smiles, beautifully and stunning. “And I woke up today, and I stopped denying it. After all this time.”

Tony shakes his head, frantically, in denial. Steve says it anyway.

“I love you.”

Tony lets out a sob. Steve’s tears track down his cheeks.

“And I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking. “But I had to tell you. I had to.”

The snow continues falling, the world keeps turning, even though Tony feels like his feet have been pulled out beneath him.

It was a long moment before Steve exhales, and turns to leave.

Tony wipes his eyes quickly, then says, “You’re making this really hard, you know?”

Steve froze. He faced Tony, again, hesitantly. “What do you mean?”

“Steve, I — ” Tony stutters, and, frustrated, he steps closer, into Steve’s space, making the other’s eyes widen comically. Determined, Tony continued. “When I first saw you, I knew it was over for me. I knew that I was going to either go insane and follow you to the ends of the earth, or go insane and never get to have you. If you thought I was everything, I thought I was nothing without you. I felt — I felt lost _so much_ , and it’s no excuse, but I _hated_ myself and I — I _adored_ you and I, I just complicated everything for no reason, aside from thinking that there was no way in hell that Steve Rogers would give me a second’s thought.” 

Steve hugged himself tightly, knuckles white where they gripped his biceps. “Tony?”

“When you posted that picture is when I gave up. And when you found out that I was the asshole behind all of those stupid pranks is when I gave up on any mere fantasy of this. Because I don’t deserve you. I never have. I probably never will.” Tony steps closer. “But I’m selfish.”

Steve inhales, sharply. His eyes are so blue.

“I think this is a dream,” Tony whispers.

“Tony,” Steve says again, and there’s a burning hope in his eyes.

“I love you, Steve Rogers,” Tony says. “So much.”

Steve’s expression lit up, so bright that it was blinding, and Tony can't hold it in anymore, can't stop himself — he clasps Steve’s cheeks in his hands and pulls him into a kiss. Steve instantly responded, wrapping his arms around Tony, and then they were kissing.

Distantly, fireworks and butterflies and a screeching excitement was taking place in Tony’s mind, but at that moment, it was quiet. There was only the snow falling on their heads, their cold noses brushing each other, Steve’s soft lips moving under his. Tony’s mind, finally, was at peace.

They parted, and Tony had to blink away the happy darkness. “A dream,” he murmurs, bringing one of his thumbs to trace Steve’s lips. The lips replied by parting, spreading into a blinding white smile.

“No,” Steve whispers, smiling so brilliantly. “This is too perfect for a dream.”

“I love you,” Tony says, voice cracking shamelessly. “I love you.”

Steve’s smile is unstoppable, even as he pulls Tony in for another kiss — Tony tastes his happiness with a hint of tongue, and finds that it’s his new favorite taste, egged on by Steve’s soft noises.

They last quite a while that way, until they hear a loud cheering noise, emanating from the house. Steve instantly pulls away, face flushed red and pupils blown wide, before shoving his face into Tony’s shoulder. Tony looks past him to see their friends piled on one another to see out the window. Tony gives them the finger, and Barnes easily pulls down his pants to moon them. He disappears to the ground after Sharon and Sam attack him for the visual assault.

Steve groans, and Tony laughs, suddenly so content, so free, and Steve’s head shoots up to just look at him, which he does until Tony’s laughter patters off.

“You know,” Tony says, quietly, “I still don’t quite believe this is real.”

Steve smiles, small but so happy. “I know. I’ll keep reminding you it is.”

“And whenever I imagined this,” Tony added, looking up, “I always imagined I’d be the one leaning down.”

Steve stares at him. “You honestly liked me back then? Even when I was a twig?”

Tony’s cheeks burned red. “I’m going to regret this later,” he states, “but ask Jarvis. He witnessed the slightly embarrassing evolution of my feelings for you.”

Steve’s lips twitch. “Ask just about anyone I know for my feelings for you.”

An evil grin stretches across Tony’s mouth. “I will.” Kissing Steve once more, softly and sweetly, he hurries back to the door, and Steve lets out a stressed noise before rushing behind him. 

Colliding at the door, Steve kisses him again. “You’re terrible, Tony Stark,” he declares, pulling away.

Tony grins. “But you love me.”

“I do,” Steve agrees easily, and Tony’s heart sings. Steve chews his lip. “But you’re — you’re staying?”

Tony wraps his arms around his neck. “For however long you’ll have me.”

They collapse into a kiss again, Steve pressing Tony into the door, and Steve’s right, it’s perfection, too perfect for a dream, it’s real, oh _God_ —

Tony’s head thuds against the floor, half of Steve’s body falling on top of him. 

Natasha tsks from where she looks down at them, though amusement is high in her eyes. “Naughty, naughty, boys.”

Steve rolls into Tony’s side, face red, and Tony just laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so happy i got this out in time for christmas! i'm not very happy with this chapter, but i really wanted to publish it :) this chapter is definitely the longest, being nearly eight thousand words, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!
> 
> (also, i updated the tags on this! these new tags are definitely important, so if there's one that you think i'm missing, feel free to share :))


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